Somehow, I still miss West Virginia.
While I was there, I never would have thought that I would long to go back just a few months after I had left. Driving toward the Seattle skyline on my way home from the airport the night I got back, I felt completely at peace and ecstatic to be home again. Eight months later, the relief of home has worn off. My mind is free from the stress of my trip and the joy of return. With my heart relaxed into its normal state, I have discovered that, completely unknowingly, I have left part of it in the hills of West Virginia-- in the very trailers and fields and ramshackle towns that my heart seemed to hate just last summer.
I find myself now longing to see fireflies flitting in and out of the thick darkness of a humid summer night. To see the green of open fields against the blue of a cloudless sky. To have someone tell me to "turn on the only paved road and when you see the boat in the yard you're there." To not be looked at funny when I pronounce "Appalachia" the way my friends there taught me to. To get a swirl cone from the Dairy King. To order my sandwich from the gas pump at Sheetz. To drive across a covered bridge. To see Jan and Ralph and Dougy and Dan and Kim and Kris and Mike. To hear Mike describe how he makes the perfect pepperoni roll. To visit Matt and Betsy, and play with Serena and Mia (oh, my heart misses those girls so deeply...) To watch high schoolers replace a rotted trailer floor. To see my tough Sierra try to act so cool all the time. To hear stories. To see love. To be loved.
How did this happen without me even knowing? And now what do I do?
1 comment:
Great questions. Please let me know if you figure it out...
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