How can you miss a place that is not your home? Such a phenomenon is strange to me. I live in the same city I was born in. I have always been here and am happy with my town. So why do I miss the Loch Ness, the coast of Cornwall, the banks of the Wye River, so?
I am enjoying a Virginia spring. Getting the yard ready for flowers and a vegetable garden. Seventy degree temperatures in mid-March are nothing to sneeze at! Southwest Virginia is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been and I’ve recently seen much of the USA and a few foreign places as well.
Yet, I am drawn to a place I have only visited for a few weeks. I miss the smell of the damp forests, the bite of the coastal wind, the beauty of a sometimes harsh landscape. What’s up with that? I expected to love Scotland, Cornwall, and Wales. I did not expect to fall in love with them, to seek ways to return sooner than later, to ponder a much longer stay.
I have discovered a years dormant wanderlust, lying in wait for the right catalyst. Is this a response to the death of my mother, my foundation, a little over a year ago? Is it that my children are grown and forging lives of their own that need only peripheral interaction with me? Is it all of those things that are releasing me from tethers I secured to my hometown long ago?
I think it is freedom – the freedom of losing those you love to death and to growing up. We don’t like to call it freedom. I feel treasonous calling it that. The ones I speak of have been, and continue to be the blood of my life, but they no longer need that depth of time commitment from me. So, I am free, free to pursue the newer callings.
Happily for me, I have a husband who has always tuned to his own wanderlust. I think he has been patiently waiting for me to find mine. I always thought that getting older was a slowing down and a pulling in. But it feels just the opposite for me and for us. It is an opening to, a seeking of, the unknown. I feel Dunkeld, Fort Augustus, Crail, Cornwall, and the north of Wales in our near future.