Rusty fields

I've done really good on the homesickness front ever since we moved to Kentucky. Despite being a life-long Texan and being very close to my family, the beauty of Kentucky and the kindness of everyone have kept me going pretty much tear-free for nearly two months. But yesterday, something happened. I was driving by a field of dead soy beans (a few farmers lost their soy crop this year). The normally bright green crop had turned a dark rusty red. Immediately, it reminded me of the beautiful barley fields along the drive between Eden and San Angelo that turn the most gorgeous shade of rust around this time each year. And suddenly, that color, one of my favorite colors, made me homesick. Out of nowhere, I felt I needed to see a short squaty mesquite tree, or eat a pecan while standing in the same spot it fell, or get really full on chips and salsa before my food comes out, or read a book in my pretty yellow room, or just see my family in person. No more pictures, the real thing.

This isn't the kind of homesickness that debilitates. It doesn't depress me all day, or take the joy out of the things I love here in Kentucky, like the smell of tobacco being smoked in the tobacco barns and my cute little home. It just creeps up on me ever once in while, like a sharp pain that quickly recedes. And it always comes with a little bit of relief. I am relieved to know that Texas isn't fading in importance and that I won't forget the things I love about it. I just have to make a home somewhere else for now.