my friend, eric, at home in northern germany.
thatched roof and leather pants. for real.
My umbrella word for two thousand twelve has been coming on since last spring when I ventured to Northern Germany with my Mother. I was struck by the way people lived and how deeply they embraced their surroundings. Never before had I witnessed and understood how connected some of my family and friends were to their dwellings and the land where they lived. Or how heart broken some were to be separated from the place and the people they had relied on as the anchors of their lives, whether by death or the need for assisted living. Between the bone-deep contentment of some and the tears of others, I knew it was all about home~ both the peace of it and the unfulfilled longing.
This is the year of home. This is the year of going home, even if I go nowhere at all. Maybe this need has to do with never owning a home, never raising children, never knowing how to plant myself firmly in a society that only supports tradition when tradition has not supported me. Maybe the need for home, finally, has nothing to do with place and everything to do with how comfortable I can feel inside my own skin. Maybe its about finding peace and comfort and roots on my less traveled road.
Whatever it is, I long for it. And I am the only one who can lastingly give it to myself.
So, I am going home. In all its rich meanings.
To help myself get there, I am charting a course. Come with me. Let's meet on the veranda with tea and dip our roots deep in the earth.
February 25th through April 5th, 2012