The Art of Being Homesick

I do apologize for not being with you yesterday, but there was a lot to do, and a lot on my mind. Let me share some of it with you. As I think I mentioned earlier, I was born in Athens, Greece, but grew up in the United States, and in various other countries across Europe and South America.

My mother is currently living in Mykonos, Greece, the illuminating island I told you about two days ago. She is an artist, like me, and is absent minded and quite lovable. Yes, we have had our differences as any mother-daughter relationship, but all in all, I wouldn’t change a thing about her.

I had asked her to send me a pair of Mykonian hand made leather sandals which I love, in any color she pleases. This is the first summer I won’t be there with her, and in a land so far, far away. So it is natural that from time to time I get a bit nostalgic, even though the fact of the matter is, I wanted to move here like crazy. But it’s the old nagging cliche… be careful what you with for… it may actually come true.

Again, I repeat myself, I wanted to come here and my point is not regret. Arizona is magical. And I’m insanely in love with my pilot/writer/musician husband.

It’s the issue of wanting what you can’t have. It’s always been my issue. And in a way, it even makes me more homesick when I think that I just can’t pop myself into a plane and fly the fifteen hour trip to Greece any time I want to.

In any case, what I wanted to tell you was how I felt when I received my mom’s package. In it, there were not only the pair of sandals, but a tee shirt for each of my three boys, two mykonos fridge magnets, and a hand written letter in my mother’s pretty block writing, accompanied by little hearts and a sailboat resting on a flawless blue sea.

It made me cry.

And cry.

I’m a mom myself, and adventurous and independent to the core. But in that small instant when I held those items in my hand, I cried like a baby, ample tears streaming shamelessly down my face.

I was homesick.

And I missed my mommy.

Oh the tears.

So I wrote her an email explaining how I felt, being as subtle as I could, and tried my best not to call her in the wee early hours of the morning, which would have been Greek time.

So this is what happened: I was homesick. Me, the experienced traveler, the adventurer, the one who gets bored by staying in one place for too long. I just wanted what was familiar, and comforting. And that was Mykonos, the beautiful sun-drenched island I wrote about in my novel. Oh how I miss it. I need to feel that cool sea surround me, I need to kiss the saltiness and feel it tickle my face. I need to watch the warm glow of the sun setting behind the cobalt water, and drink cold beer feeling the slight tingle of a sunburn on my shoulders.

It’s the art of being homesick… And the memory of home you just can’t ignore, no matter how many miles away you  travel.

I’ll remember that. And next time I’m there, I won’t say: “I’m so bored. I just need to get out of here.”

Peace, love & kindness,