I’ve lived in this town almost my whole life, and most of the time that’s fine by me. But in late fall when the sky fills with birds migrating south for the winter, traveling thousands of miles, I get homesick for places Ive never been. Places like the Appalachians, where you can get away from the towns, head into the mountains, and see all the stars. Or maybe the muggy warmth of the south where the cold rarely touched, and if it does, it does so briefly.
Then there are days where I long for places I’ve been before. Like the ruins of castles in the UK. Where the ghosts whisper and the stone speaks of an age of Ladies, Knights, and bloodshed. Or the misty rain of the Pacific Northwest forests, and splendid sunsets against Mount Ranier.
Of course, when you’ve lived somewhere for 30-odd years, it’s almost an automatic response to say you want to travel. Like when someone asks the parents the gender of their baby and they reply with; “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s healthy!” Even if they secretly want a boy or girl.
“Wouldn’t you like to get out of here, and travel the world?”
“Sure!” Then you paint a wistful glance on your face, and tell them about places you’d like to visit someday, or ask them where they’ve been.
There are still others who say they’d never want to leave, and the small town life is for them. But they could leave if they really wanted. Unlike me.
You wouldn’t think there was a downside to killing an evil witch, famed in these parts for her proclivity for eating children. However, as a mercenary far from home, and used to the traveling lifestyle, she couldn’t have nailed me with a worse punishment. Except maybe death.
Maybe I shouldn’t have engaged in relations with her, but how was I supposed to know the mayor’s daughter I’d been mutually seduced by was the being of evil I’d been sent after? Sometimes evil is downright cute, with a bubbly personality, button nose, and rosy cheeks to boot.
With her dying breath she’d chained me to this podunk town for eternity, and if I tried wandering beyond its limits I’d be knocked unconscious until back within said limits. I tried so many different ways to get out that first year, and had been found in many a strange situations by the townsfolk, out cold, they thought me a drunk. I wasn’t that first year, but then on out I surely was.
So, yes, I get homesick for places I’d never be able to see, the ones I have, but most of all for home.