#ohio native

The second storm we had this week swept through the morning as it swept through my heart, with winds that whipped and howled, proudly announcing its arrival. The smell of the rain awoke in me a swelling wave of homesickness; I felt a sudden, deep longing for the scents and sights that accompany the changing seasons nearly two thousand miles east of here. I realized that, this year, I will not be greeted by a truly crisp autumn day. I will not feel the nip of an October breeze slipping silently through the knit of my sweater, its chill settling coolly on my skin. I will not hear the crunch of fallen leaves, brightly donning their warmest hues, stained by the memory of the summer sun. I will not smell the heavy, comforting scent of sleepy earth, her temperatures dropping with every autumnal yawn, sighing cold across the land, blanketing amber grasses with silver frosts that lazily glitter in reluctant morning light.

When we left, I knew homesick would happen. I’ve felt a few small drops throughout our two weeks so far; petting a cat that is not my own, a foreign town sharing street names with my home, recognizing in my aunt the mannerisms of my mother. These things shoot pangs of yearning at my heart, followed by ripples of passing emotions, but they do pass, and the contentedness of new adventure replaces them and settles in my chest.

But today the rain fell alongside my spirit, and I lay on our bed watching the sky quench the thirst of this dry Arizona land. I turned to Kristin, my throat too tight for my words. I’m feeling homesick, I confided. My head fell to rest in her lap, and I cried, and she consoled. Being homesick, I have decided, does not mean that I am weak, or that I am not ready to step away from my life in Ohio. Rather, I have found it to be a time for reflection: these are not tears of mourning; they are not tears that are remembering loss. They are tears that have realized the great love we’ve stepped away from, the open arms and encouragement of family, and of dear, dear friends. And although I may be wishing for a moment to be closer, I take solace in knowing that we will, sooner than it seems, be returning to that place. I welcome this home we have built in our relationship, the home we have grounded in love, that travels where we travel and adventures where we adventure. She is my home.