He told me one time, on a hot afternoon, sun beating through the window, burning shoulders, that, “no one cries nowhere.” At the time I think he meant it in a way that was supposed to let me know, that my characters don’t live in a vacuum. Everything happens somewhere. But I took it all very seriously.
I’ve been feeling homesick lately. I am not sure for what or where or whom, because I recently just got home, though a home I don’t really know anymore. And I am learning that certain feelings take up in residence in bones of my body. I feel homesick on the underside of my ribs like they want to be held so hard it will start to hurt. No one is homesick nowhere. No one misses nowhere. I miss it in my wrists, like my hands have run out of things to do, they have nothing to touch. In the mornings I miss it along the ridges of my spine and the base of my skull.
Is it possible to be homesick not for a place, but for a person?
THE LITTLE BLACQUE BLOG 