Homesick

Being in Sacramento the previous ten days prior to the last two, Seeing my wife every day, Eating fast food and having a variety of people to talk with , and, of course, taking full opportunity, I became homesick. Homesick! Oooooohhhhh Sacramento, How I love my home, that climate, those old friends, the life I lived.

My youth, being unbridled and undisciplined. All the things that force me to build a new world at fifty. All the mistakes that I regret now that the Piper has arrived. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Oooooooooooohhhhhh how I miss my wife. Would she but leave her world and make mine complete. It won't happen, yet, I cannot return to the world I'm homesick over: That world is gone. The fast-food is still there, a variety of people are still there, but my part of that world is an aside now. Homeless in Sacramento. My being homesick is like wishing for a full head of hair, or my sons to be children again. That must be why they call it The Past.

I miss the house on 71st st: The rolling gate, wrought iron and brick pillars. I drive by and the gate is always open. The new owner opened another section of the fence and the driveway is circular now. The "attack" pets aren't racing back and forth behind the fence, filled with false bravado in the safety of the "compound", dying to get free to kill. This guy doesn't know how to keep a fortress! I guess that's why they call it Sold.

Homesick for that climate in Sacramento! Early February and already upper sixties. When I left the mountains it was a continuous storm . Snow storm. The Sun, too far south in the horizon to break above the ridge that divides the north and south side of Hope mountain, was only giving up three hours of direct sunlight a day to Bradland. When it wasn't raining or snowing it was shady. The ferns love it, but, the moss began to overtake my spirit and I had to roll. (Everything covered by a foot of snow and I was down to my last eight pieces of firewood)

Homesick for those old friends. They still have Homes in Sacramento. I am homeless in Sacramento. Visiting people when you live out of town is different then visiting when you live three blocks away. You can randomly stop and shoot the shit with people every day when you're neighbors, but it's Homeless in Sacramento to drive old paths to chat with friends when you no longer have a residence in the area: You're visiting a world you no longer reside in: The Past: What Was.

After ten days of sitting at my Nephews', I realize we don't have a life, my nephew and I.

I return to the new world, arriving in the late afternoon. The remorse for every mistake I've ever made hits me and I am humbled and crumpled, Homesick for What Was, sobbing in self-sorrow and regret, paying the Piper mentally with every club I can think of to beat myself. The snow has completely melted but the house is cold in the afternoon shade, and as I struggle to start a fire in the wood burning stove, hoping the last of the firewood will heat the house over-night, I pray to God for redemption, happiness, salvation and patience, and I try to have faith and be grateful for All the blessings in my life. Then I cry myself to sleep: Homesick for a Segment of Life. A seventeen year segment. What a Wonderful Everything it was. It was Life!

The next day I forage for firewood. I cut and bring home at least a few days of semi-dry, but seasoned oak. It is amazing how a little work in the sunshine pulls me from the depths of depression. Work. Work. Work. Feel Good, Good, Good!

Having a purpose to life is essential, even just the basic(but important) function of providing fuel for heat is therapeutic to my soul. Arriving home I feel better: I should have food and heat for days. In the final analysis it's all about the basics: Food, Shelter, Pot, Liquor and Love. And then it strikes me: The Sun was shining on my face when I left the house at 9:00 Am: Summer has given up it's southward trek and Winter is retreating behind that ridge:The Sun is rising high enough to deliver light and warmth to the shady side of the ridge: Spring is coming. Sunshine, crystal blue skies, the mountains!

It was nice seeing you.