Do you ever feel homesickness for somewhere that isn't technically your home? While in Cambridge one of my professors said to me, "the Fall seasons when I am not here, I feel an emptiness". I feel that emptiness too. It's not a pervasive or consuming emptiness...nothing to jump off a building over, just a gentle tug of homesickness, a little hollow pocket inside.

It's strange, and I can't explain it, but every Fall around this time - end of Octoberish - I feel pulled to that country 'across the pond'. Even though each of my significant visits over there have coincided with the Fall season, my longing could stem from any number of things I suppose. Could be a desire to re-live, so as not to forget, the montage of fond memories created on another continent. Could be a latent urge to get-the-hell-outta-Dodge and explore new places. Could simply be watery memories bubbling to the surface during the season of decay when the aches of nostalgia become almost tangible.

'Home is where the heart is' as the saying goes. And the heart is very adept at traveling through space and time. 'Home' doesn't necessarily have to be a physical, geographical place with a foundation of concrete, does it? Home can be much more ephemeral - variable, changing, never staying the same. Home can be a moment - a smile, a familiar smell, a hug, the taste of grape jelly, the sound of a train whistle, a laugh, the feel of scratchy wool. Home depends on when and where your heart is at any given moment of time. And at the moment my heart is across the Atlantic.

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