True Confessions
Every morning I wake up in my room, which is a place rather like an eternal forest twilight. The dark furniture springs like trees from a soft green carpet, and the walls are that peculiar hazy shade of blue-lavender which is so thoughtful and soothing. It is also a relatively sunny room, and so there is always a sunset light filtering in through the windows. Since we built this house, I got to design my room, and painted and decorated it myself, and therefore perhaps you will excuse my pride in it.
Every morning, as I was saying, I wake up in my forest twilight.... and there is always a Longaevi staring at me. I know that they keep a guard over me, for I once caught Paradoxus giving the others their orders on the subject. However, I still haven't gotten used to finding Chiasmus or Litotes (most often Simile or Paradoxus) sitting on my bedpost staring at me whenever my eyes open. Every morning they ask the same question.
"Musa, I am homesick for my gazebo. Aren't you?"
And I always reply with a stout, brisk, and cheery "No, cara stulta, of course not. Why, we'll be back there in three months! Let's see what there is to do today, shall we? Hand me my Bible, there's a dear, and we'll ask the Domine for our daily bread and marching orders."
"Musa, you don't miss the lake?"
"Certainly not," I reply, a little too brightly. "There are lakes in Maryland."
"But Musa, you know every mood of the water there, and love them all. Musa, don't you remember the late afternoon sun warm on your face as you are reading in the gazebo, and the lovely little aurae that come to play with your feet and hair and the pages of your books?"
"Satis, Simile. Enough. There's no point in dwelling on all that."
"You don't ever think of sitting on the front steps, tossing bright words back and forth with friends while the sun goes down and the bricks slowly cool under your bare feet, and the lamps come alive one by one? You don't miss the old friendly competition around the air hockey table, and the lively banter, and the heavier talks about things that matter?"
"Don't you like it here?" I counter, pricked. "Don't you like the indoor garden in the sunroom, and the little fountain with its goldfish, and the Prussian Blue room, and the soft lovely grass and weeding the garden with me in the early mornings, and our long walks in the woods?"
"It's not the gazebo. It's not our lake." Paradoxus always replies, with a wistful look.
Confession: I'm desperately homesick for PHC. I used to agonize over such feelings, worrying endlessly that they were disloyalty to my family and my home church, but I think I have learned differently by this, my third summer caught between two worlds.
It doesn't mean that I don't love my family. It doesn't mean that I don't love my home church. It just means that I love both worlds (home and PHC), and that, though happy and busy in either place, part of me will always be homesick for the other, for my family when I am there, or for my dear friends while I am here. That's okay. It's a wonky time of life, and I should get comfortable with constant change. It does a number on my emotions, but I do have a constant, a North Star. I have my Lord, who never goes anywhere. Oh, I'm SO GLAD that God will never graduate and move away, will never be 75 minutes from campus, and will never, ever, ever drift out of the close companionship which I so love and prize with friends and family!
So yes, I'm homesick. Horribly. But as I keep reminding the Longaevi, it's only for three months.
And now, the saga continues. We had our bridal shower for the family friend, which went all afternoon, and now Mom has decided to repaint the Living Room this evening (mind you, this is the woman who has drived 20 hours in the last two days, and is just back from New England, and just threw a lavish bridal shower for 40 people). We will bring down the bookshelves from the Parents' Bedroom and turn the Living Room into a Library after painting, with the silver-plated tea set that Nana gave her, and the tall, dark--and handsome--grandfather clock from Auntie's, and books, books, books! I am deleriously happy! I am also astonished at the stamina, ingenuity, and sheer go-gettum-ness of my mother. Mirabile visu! When I grow up, I want to be just like her.
Every morning, as I was saying, I wake up in my forest twilight.... and there is always a Longaevi staring at me. I know that they keep a guard over me, for I once caught Paradoxus giving the others their orders on the subject. However, I still haven't gotten used to finding Chiasmus or Litotes (most often Simile or Paradoxus) sitting on my bedpost staring at me whenever my eyes open. Every morning they ask the same question.
"Musa, I am homesick for my gazebo. Aren't you?"
And I always reply with a stout, brisk, and cheery "No, cara stulta, of course not. Why, we'll be back there in three months! Let's see what there is to do today, shall we? Hand me my Bible, there's a dear, and we'll ask the Domine for our daily bread and marching orders."
"Musa, you don't miss the lake?"
"Certainly not," I reply, a little too brightly. "There are lakes in Maryland."
"But Musa, you know every mood of the water there, and love them all. Musa, don't you remember the late afternoon sun warm on your face as you are reading in the gazebo, and the lovely little aurae that come to play with your feet and hair and the pages of your books?"
"Satis, Simile. Enough. There's no point in dwelling on all that."
"You don't ever think of sitting on the front steps, tossing bright words back and forth with friends while the sun goes down and the bricks slowly cool under your bare feet, and the lamps come alive one by one? You don't miss the old friendly competition around the air hockey table, and the lively banter, and the heavier talks about things that matter?"
"Don't you like it here?" I counter, pricked. "Don't you like the indoor garden in the sunroom, and the little fountain with its goldfish, and the Prussian Blue room, and the soft lovely grass and weeding the garden with me in the early mornings, and our long walks in the woods?"
"It's not the gazebo. It's not our lake." Paradoxus always replies, with a wistful look.
Confession: I'm desperately homesick for PHC. I used to agonize over such feelings, worrying endlessly that they were disloyalty to my family and my home church, but I think I have learned differently by this, my third summer caught between two worlds.
It doesn't mean that I don't love my family. It doesn't mean that I don't love my home church. It just means that I love both worlds (home and PHC), and that, though happy and busy in either place, part of me will always be homesick for the other, for my family when I am there, or for my dear friends while I am here. That's okay. It's a wonky time of life, and I should get comfortable with constant change. It does a number on my emotions, but I do have a constant, a North Star. I have my Lord, who never goes anywhere. Oh, I'm SO GLAD that God will never graduate and move away, will never be 75 minutes from campus, and will never, ever, ever drift out of the close companionship which I so love and prize with friends and family!
So yes, I'm homesick. Horribly. But as I keep reminding the Longaevi, it's only for three months.
And now, the saga continues. We had our bridal shower for the family friend, which went all afternoon, and now Mom has decided to repaint the Living Room this evening (mind you, this is the woman who has drived 20 hours in the last two days, and is just back from New England, and just threw a lavish bridal shower for 40 people). We will bring down the bookshelves from the Parents' Bedroom and turn the Living Room into a Library after painting, with the silver-plated tea set that Nana gave her, and the tall, dark--and handsome--grandfather clock from Auntie's, and books, books, books! I am deleriously happy! I am also astonished at the stamina, ingenuity, and sheer go-gettum-ness of my mother. Mirabile visu! When I grow up, I want to be just like her.
posted by Praelucor at 7:12 PM
1 Comments:
From Lisa: I'm homesick for PHC today, in a rather odd way, since I am here... my summer traveling has consisted of moving my life to the second floor of Founders. The gazebo and the lake and the dorms and the circle and the classrooms are all still here of course... but without the people it feels like a ghost town or a dead mall, and the few of us who remain (especially those who still live on campus, poor people) are continually saying, "Isn't it quiet around here? Isn't it weird?"
For me living off-campus... so blessed to have my home church AND family AND school during the school year, the summer is for me simply a time of my friends leaving, of being left behind... but, like you, I am learning to be content, to enjoy the blessings of the summer that I don't have during the school year -- much more family time, more reading time, more sleeping time, vacation time, time with God...
And I want to use this season of my life well, even though it may not be my favorite, and return to school in August knowing that it was a summer of growth, a summer well spent.
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