Often I get this startling homesickness for a place, that honestly, is not my home anymore.  It was for so long, and much of my family is still down there.  Pine Hill, Alabama or Avinger, Texas, both pull at my heart strings.  Small southern towns of 3000 and less, where you can almost walk anywhere you want in the local area.  Places where to actually go shopping you have to drive at least 10 to 20 minutes to get to an actual grocery store.  

Places where swimming and humidity were common occurrences.  Where life ran slow, and roads were red.  Where fireflies and sounds of bullfrogs wandered the night air.  A place where I could eat grits, hush puppies, and boiled peanuts in silence.  Where armadillos were not uncommon, but the cold northwestern rain forest was.

Where I could smoke a cigarette (if I smoked), on my front porch, and where the only fancy coffee really was the black coffee you made at home.  Sometimes life seems so overwhelmingly complicated, with all of the choices that are available.  Choices of what to do with your life, or choices of what to eat (all the different options), or choices of what to do in your free time.  Granted, I know that by having those freedoms so readily available I’m not fully realizing how much they really make a difference in my life.  

When I was in Florida last year, I learned how difficult it was to get a fancy coffee in the South.  It was partially annoying, being that I was in Orlando (aka big city) and I couldn’t find a latte unless I drove at least 5-7 minutes to the nearest Starbucks (the only fancy coffee shop around really).  Being a resident of Corvallis, Oregon, where I can walk 5 minutes and get a fancy coffee from a local shop, in three different directions from where I live, having that freedom makes me realize Corvallis satisfies a hunger that I can’t truly explain.  

Despite all I miss the humidity, the red earth, and the drenching rain.