The Homesick Blues

Homesick for no one

Though it’s beautiful here, as the leaves turn color and I drive by apple trees laden with fruit, I am singing the homesick blues. I haven’t felt this kind of homesickness since I was a kid at camp. The strangest part of it is that there is no one at home awaiting my return or missing me. There is no one I miss. My cats may or may not miss me. I suppose they’ve noticed I’m not there, but someone is feeding them and cleaning their box, so I imagine they’re just fine. We all know how fickle felines are. 

It’s a little embarrassing that at my age when I start talking about missing home I get teary. I feel both childish and foolish. I wonder if my trip home this week will make me feel better or worse. If you are reading this on Wednesday morning, I am on the road headed home for a few days to take care of some household chores, sort through my mail, and get my winter gear. 

My life has fallen into a pattern, as life will do no matter where we’re living it. I swim most mornings in the tiny hotel pool, eat breakfast in my room, head to work at 11:30, and head home at 9:00. On the days I work I have lunch at work and pack dinner to bring home with me to eat while I watch Rachel Maddow highlight the many ways our country is headed for an apocalypse. On my days off; Tuesday and Wednesdays, my routine varies a bit. 

The very good, great day

Last week I was lucky to have the same day off as one of my fellow transplants, Nikki. We made the short drive to Utica and went to the Munson-Williams-Proctor Art Institute. If you are anywhere near Utica, you should definitely visit. The museum has an excellent and eclectic collection, and (for me) is a perfect size. We strolled the museum for about two hours then went to the museum cafe where we sat outside in the cool autumn air and had the best meal I’ve had in a long time. The chef, a transplant from Pennsylvania came by to talk to us about food and Utica making the meal feel more special. 

On our way home we stopped at Utica Coffee, a local roaster whose motto ‘Wake the Hell up” is nothing short of inspirational. And then picked up another member of our crew for dinner. We had the chance to do some cathartic venting and complaining. All of us are somewhat unhappy and missing home. It turns out I’m not the only one singing the homesick blues. 

It’s all so terrible

Perhaps, if the world wasn’t on fire I’d feel less disheartened. Each day I check both my body temperature, a consistent 97.3, and my emotional state. Am I depressed or just feeling hopeless? Is there a difference? Does it matter? If I was home, and out of work I might be taking action in ways I am not here. I could be volunteering to get people registered to vote.  Easy to say what I would be doing… I’ll do what I can; make sure my ballot isn’t naked, and urge others to do the same. 

Though there is comfort at home, I remind myself that if I were at home I’d be facing the financial challenges of living on my meager unemployment benefits. I’ve traded one for the other.  Like millions of Americans, I have no idea what the future holds, both in the coming months, and years. Colleges are now extending winter break through January, starting the spring semester in February. I haven’t seen anything yet from UPenn. If we don’t return to work then, will I have the option of coming back here? There is a vast difference between autumn and winter in (upstate) New York…

Looking ahead

For this weekend, I will cook in my own kitchen, and sleep in my own bed. It will feel both weird and normal, and then I will return here. I probably won’t go home again for six weeks, and it looks like things in the US will get crazier and scarier for a while. Election day/week/month will come and go. Things will get worse, and if we’re lucky, better. I will plan and look forward to a (COVID) quiet Thanksgiving, and a couple of months (at least) feeling extra-appreciative of being at home. For now, I will find comfort in a place I temporarily call home and deal with my homesick blues.