I've always had a tendency for melancholy. I'm a calm, somber person and sometimes I could just sit and watch the rain fall. Not because I enjoy being sad, but because it's calming. I can sit and watch and listen, and feed my soul.
Lately, this melancholy feels a lot like a longing for home. The problem is, am I longing for my old home? Where I grew up, where my family lives, and where comfort and love is always at your doorstep? Or am I longing for a place to just feel like home?
I know when I'm missing home because I listen to a lot of country music. It seems to provide me comfort...even the twangy, my-wife-and-dog left me...it's just, comforting. But I also know that when I was at home, I had a deep, internal push to leave. Maybe that came from it being a small town that never changed. It was reliable and friendly. But it always seemed like I was made to do more.
I've spent a lot of my life trying to fit a "square peg in a round hole". (Directly quoted from my girl, Iris, in The Holiday) I've chased after things I thought sounded good or would be beneifical for my future. I've sometimes looked so far ahead that I've made choices that seem bizarre. I've been trying to fit my square peg into a million round holes.
The other day, while looking at apartments and jobs and relocating-again-I had an amazing calm and peace about just letting things fall into place. And I do, have trust and faith that they will.
Oh, but this ache. This ache to want a home again. Or the ache to want to be home. I can't decipher between the two at this point...Please, God, lead and direct Your child. Her soul is in need.
Oh, and her roommates are probably tired of Rascal Flatts and George Straight...