From Miles Away

It's gray outside today, the bleakness of winter face me. It is very early in the morning & all is quiet. I felt the burning pain in the deepest recesses of my soul. Why am I feeling so down?

In that moment of solitude, I asked myself what made me feel that way.The pain is so irrational, but so real. Such a nagging, constant ache that refuses to be silenced no matter how empty and silent the rest of the world is. The ache is so relentless and there is no refuge because the feeling of consolation will not come.

I walked outside to stand & gaze into the sky to face my fears. The coldness of freezing winter numbed my skin but not the feeling of unease and loneliness & the lyrics of a song floating through my mind as I thought of where my life has taken me. The thoughts rage through the spaces of my mind and the strange sweetness of that pain is actually welcomed. I really miss home, the weather, my friends, my family and being around people I enjoy being with and who care about me. I miss the beach, I miss the mountains, I miss the hilly, rugged farms of my parents where I spent many summer of my youth. I miss driving along the coast on winding roads and feeling the engine respond to the touch of my feet and my hands as I shift through the gears with the wind blowing through my hair and bringing the smell of air salted by the ocean to my nose as the curves in the road rush up to meet me. I miss walking the beach at sunset and watching the sun lower itself, an orange red ball slowly dimming against the darkening sky over Mt. Parker as the waves of the sea lap over my bare feet. I miss hearing the rustling sound of the trees in a gentle wind as I sit under a pitch black sky illuminated by thousands of bright stars and the crescent moon. I miss staring at the lights of the towns of Alabel and Malapatan across the water as I listen to the gentle waves of Sarangani Bay bathing the shore. I miss the pulse of walking along the city's streets, the warmth of the lights peeking through the curtained windows of its quaint houses. I miss the spur of the moment trips to Dole Kalsangi, often begun in the wee hours of the morning just because I want to play golf and be alone with my thoughts. I miss the stir of the pines in the mountain wind as the miles go by in the darkness & I am all alone with the deafening silence of my thoughts as I drive home. I miss the smooth burning sweetness of tequila and the refreshing frozen margarita in my throat as my ears are soothed by the bold brassiness of a trumpet, the sleazy reediness of a saxophone, and the sultry haunting melodies of my favorite jazz club at The Fort & the conversation and camaraderie of friends on Saturday nights out. I miss the gatherings of my growing family, even though many are now missing. I miss my mother & the melody of her voice reaching deep inside of me & bathing my soul with a feeling of love and security. I miss trying to remember the names of the children and grandchildren of cousins, knowing that in the fleeting moments of time I spend with them I'll never know them all. I miss watching my girls play with their father and lament the bitterness and hatred that I had to go through to eventually find friendship and understanding with him. I really miss home, and the ache and longing to be there is surpassed only by the ache and longing to be home again..