Until Wednesday
Is it possible to be homesick for a country that's never been your home? Because I have been feeling some nostalgia already about our trip.
Perhaps I'm feeling blue because Mr. FH is still in Algeria and I'm in New York. We've been separated before - the longest occasion was six weeks - and every time it's been difficult. I've discovered some successful coping strategies over the course of time, but I've also found that not every tip works consistently.
So for me, I think, home is where the heart is, and my heart is now 6,000 miles away. Mr. FH calls, but not often, and I let dishes pile up in the sink and spend quite a few aimless hours pacing the apartment. Sleeping alone used to be so difficult, but I solve the problem by taking one of his worn tee shirts and draping it onto his pillow. It's not a perfect substitute, but it works if I wake during the night.
I get up in the morning, go to work, make plans to see friends in the evening for drinks, take out the garbage, buy coffee filters and orange juice - the same kinds of things I would do if Mr. FH were here. But he's not here, and I feel his lack so keenly.
I'm thinking of things to write, ways to describe Algeria to make it come alive as I experienced it.
The major component I'm missing is the warm, funny and loving Algerian man who has been my best friend and husband for the last 9 years.
posted by Miliana at 8:31 PM
3 Comments:
I'm suggesting this 'visit' to an entry in my own blog primarily because you mentioned home being where the heart is. I happen to agree with that idea, but rather than repeating myself, take a moment to read the April 22 entry, "What is Our True Name and How Many Lives Do We have" at:
http://borzsblog.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_borzsblog_archive.html
(Although this is primarily for Miliana, any other interested party is welcome.)
Ilonas - you know I'm never one to turn down free wine (Free! Wine!) but I'm finding this time alone is generally very productive for me - if not in deed, certainly in thought. I may indeed be pondering some heavy thoughts while I come to grips with what the absence of Mr. FH REALLY means to me, as opposed to what it has meant in the past or what it should mean. And thanks.
Kaz- I went to your archive and read that post - I'm sure I read it the first time around but had forgotten it. What you wrote is really compelling - I NEVER felt at home in the city of my birth, and always knew I would find the home of my heart, and hopefully discover my true self as well.
I've thought that NYC was that home, and I think it has been for the last 22 years.
But as I and my circumstances have changed, I think it was meant for me to be here not forever, but only for a time. The home of my heart seems to be changing along with the advancing of years, and the names I am called and what I call myself are also different than they used to be. Curiously (or not), Mr. FH rarely uses endearments when he speaks to me but always calls me by my given name or a private nickname - admittedly, he's not much for the "honeys" or "sweetheart" and I'm never offended by his near exclusive use of my proper name.
I suspect that I will find a few other "homes" before I'm through, and perhaps discover an additional facet of myself along with a whole 'nother name.
Thanks for directing me towards the post. Most lyrical, ma'am, and a beautiful take on a subject.
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