It is a long way to my heart, that phrase has been in my mind when I've thought of my journal writing lately. Why is it a long way to my heart? It seems to me that it is just under the surface, close, always open and reaching out. How can it be a long way to my heart? Is it buried? Buried under what? Under my husband and kids, under my work? Or has it run off to a distant place? Is that place my homeland, my family my roots? That must be it, since as I write these lines emotions rise up in my chest, tears well and would fall if I let them. My homeland; I often criticise it from afar, but secretly I long to know how I might feel, back in its bosom. My roots, my family; I long to see my brother -rekindle our comraderie, to enjoy his wife's optimisim. I miss his children and dream of being a more active presence in their lives. His oldest, 11, so much like him physically, is he personality wise? I don't know, but I think so. His second, 8, so determined in his quests, whatever they have been, may be and may become at each stage of his growing up. And his little girl, 5, so cute, so like my mother in her looks, has she got my mother's soul?
That must be where my heart is, in that faraway place of my homeland, my family, my roots. I soon will go after it and that other part of me, in the United States.
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3 comments:
recently I've changed my mind just a bit: I used to think that having a divided heart (a divided mind) was a not-good thing. and indeed it does form a tension in the mind. yet very recently I've accepted that divide, that tension of longing for two continents with an ocean in between, as a gift. it adds texture and perspective to everything I think, do, and am.
I wish you a good voyage "home" and just as good a voyage when you return home...whichever side of the ocean that is at any given moment.
smiles,
Maggie Rose
How insightful, perhaps only us ex-pats can understand - "home" whichever side of the ocean that is at any given moment.
Thanks for understanding and sharing.
love the title.
A long way to my heart.
I love how phrases come and sit on our shoulders peering into our souls. (or do they come from our souls and fly up and sit on our shoulders, like parrots repeating till we listen)
I do not love easily but when I love, I love deeply. (like parrot likes to perch by me)
I like your thoughts and feeling on your brother, his wife, and kids, I read your words, and feel as if they are my own.
Lately I am sentimental, the notion of limited time keeps presenting itself to me. Not in a scary way, but in the sense of being happy to have this day, this moment in time, to be well, walking, eating, being, to have my family. I find with this sense, of gratitude, also comes questions, of what I could be experiencing but am not (like the family you are missing). Makes me want to make my embrace bigger, my arms greater, to take in an even fuller life.
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