Missing the Pacific Northwest

I just returned from the Pacific Northwest and already I am missing everything; the trees, the mountains, the people and yes, even the rain. Virginia is lovely but I have been here for ten years and I still can’t seem to call it home. I am reminded that I don’t belong here each time I return. From the moment I step off the plane I can smell the difference between here and there. It hangs in the air. It whispers in my ear. It weighs heavy on my heart. There is a constant sense of something pulling me back. A nagging voice inside my head keeps telling me that something is missing, that I left something valuable behind. I check my luggage, my backpack, my pockets and once again I find that everything physical has made it back and still I am left with the feeling that something has been forgotten. Only on the long drive back to the house do I realize that the thing that has been misplaced is me. Misplaced, displaced. But I am here. I have gone through the migration once again. So I will go through the motions of daily life until I am free to answer the call and return to the place that calms my heart and soothes my soul, the place that wraps its arms around me and says welcome home.

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About Susan Warren Utley

Susan Warren Utley is a wife and mother living and writing in the shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Her stories are inspired by the unexpected twists and turns of real life and by her muse, a feisty Jack Russell Terrier who occasionally answers to the name of Lucy. View all posts by Susan Warren Utley

2 responses to “Missing the Pacific Northwest

  • No One of Consequence

    I envy you for your home and your vacation. Italy is on my list of places to go before I refuse to leave the comfort of my porch swing looking out upon the Sound. (One day I will return home and I will have that swing!) Thanks for your comment. Where do you blog?

  • Greg

    Lovely post. I’m a native of Puget Sound and still live there. No matter where I go and how long I’m gone, there’s nothing better than coming home. In fact, I’m writing this from a town on the Ionian coast of Italy where I’ve come to see the place my grandfather called home. And as lovely as this country is and as great a time as I’m having, I still look foward to my return.

    Ciao!

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