"This report is maybe 12-years-old. Parliament buried it, and it stayed buried till River dug it up. This is what they feared she knew. And they were right to fear because there's a whole universe of folk who are gonna know it, too. They're gonna see it. Somebody has to speak for these people. You all got on this boat for different reasons, but you all come to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything I know this, they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, 10, they'll swing back to the belief that they can make people . . . better. And I do not hold to that. So no more running. I aim to misbehave." ~ Captain Malcom Reynolds
Monday, November 10, 2008
This is the time of year where I often find myself becoming more homesick than normal...
My wife has written before of her upbringing in East Africa, the times she misses her own places of comfort and the moods the seasons bring. And I can certainly relate.
I come from literally the other side of the world; growing up out west, with the Rocky Mountains a constant backdrop to the sky, one of the hardest times of my life was moving away from that to where it was flat and dry in west Texas, and then further on as my life led me down different roads. But a part of me always was back there, in my thoughts and dreams, in where I called "home" as nebulous as the concept was.
After all, for ages the Ute were known as "The People of the Shining Mountains" to the surrounding tribes, and sometimes blood runs deep.
Despite the joy I had traveling the world, and the time I loved living on the beach at the taxpayer's expense (Thanks everyone!), I had always planned on ending up back there. I would finish school, or settle down somewhere with my mountains, the different games of each season to enjoy outside, and just the feeling of being where I have some sort of tie to the past.
No matter how you plan though life throws us curves at times. Waking up married one day (ok, it wasn't THAT quick, but still...), to someone with her own family and roots. Leaving the military a few years earlier than planned, and then trying to find a department to sign off with. Things just worked out making more sense for us to stay in Virginia when this all happened - after all, my family is scattered to the four winds, we were already here and had some connections, etc. So, here we are 6 years later and I'm a resident with an established career and family...
But when the year starts to turn to a close, the leaves change and fall from the trees, and the air takes on that evening chill... I start to miss home even more. That crispness in the air that tells you snow will be here before morning. The glow of the sun setting behind peaks close enough to touch. The wind blowing in the distance through the pines, that sound like running water as nature breathes. Stars shining like diamonds above as you are just that little bit closer to what lies above. I see pictures such as this, and I feel the longing inside.
This post isn't meant to be particularly maudlin, or to complain about where I am - I certainly don't regret the choices I've made. Take it as just the howl of a wolf late at night, who misses the echoes of his cry sounding through the wilds of home...