Homesick

When someone is homesick, it’s usually for their home, or their town, or their state.

Homesick for a place.

But you can also be homesick for a time.

For people.

For ghosts of Christmases past. And birthdays. And Halloweens.

For vacations when you can’t quit giggling late at night when you’re supposed to go to sleep.

For chocolate milk and fried chicken in a hotel room watching Johnny Carson.

For the smell of your great-grandmother’s house that meant safety, comfort, acceptance, love.

For the smell of a freshly plowed field and the sound of Grandpa’s tractor.

For inside jokes and sideways glances.

For hugs you gave and the thousands more you wish you did.

For the smell of mowed grass, grilled chicken and fresh strawberries.

For the sound of laughter from the people who were the most important thing in the world but you didn’t realize that at the time.

For the chance to say I love you one more time.

So, if I seem a little off for the next 10, 20, 30 years…it’s OK, I’m just homesick.

Originally published on Medium here.