I love this poem, and its true. I miss my little island. The harbor is beautiful enough to capture the attention of people who live their entire lives near it. I see pictures and posts and I long for it.
It snowed in Michigan and someone posted a link to these amazing and easy to make ice globes- The odds of it getting cold enough here to try this are pretty slim, so I was sad.
I know that the North Branch Independent Bank is playing Christmas music, my grandma and the other volunteers at the emergency aid thrift shop are decorating it for the holidays and I miss that little farming community, as much as I miss the little island.
There is a town in Tennessee called Leipers Fork. It is so quaint and friendly it feels staged. Like falling into Pleasantville. I tell everyone though if I ever became wealthy I’d live on Sanibel Island in Florida. Where people ride tandem bikes and wave in their white capris like a postcard. I wouldn’t though, by the time I got settled my heart would long for the mountains.
It’s not that I’m a gypsy there are just too many places that feel like home.
Louis Armstrong had it right.
Sweet post, Kate! I like the poem you mention, too, but whenever I’m away from here, it’s Langston Hughes that sustains me:
Wave of Sorrow
Do not drown me now.
I see the Island
Still ahead somehow
I see the Island
And its sands are fair
Wave of Sorrow
Take me There.
Oooh I like that one too!