homesick.

There are times when I lay down and I feel the softness of the sheets beneath me and the pillow under my head. But, my mind is flittering away, on the edges of an organic notion of timelessness. I feel as though I am a soul without a body, a sun without a sky, diverting my attention from the physical planes of my body and thinking about my mind's place in the world. I feel my body shifting through landscapes, one moment I feel the grass beneath my skin, prickling and irritating and itchy. The sun beaming its warmth over me like a soothing hug, while the breeze lifts my hair and places it lightly on my face. I morph again, shifting from the cocoon of warmth to the freedom of flying through the sky. I feel the air beneath me, my clothes fluttering like useless wings allowing me to float. I feel the clouds condensing around me, a thunder sound in belly of the horizon and a lightning flash from the periphery of my vision. The colors dance underneath my eyelids, and I feel energized. This feeling, this wandering lost feeling, is one I experience late at night, with the thick blackness overwhelming me. I can't see where I am or where I am going.
In this moment, there is this sense of motionless time. I feel in one place, but in another at the same time. In the dark, I can't see where I am, physically, emotionally, mentally. Am I in this new place, with different sounds, smells, and feels? Am I lost between places, between home and change? So, I close my eyes, and I think of myself at home in Chicago. On the couch with my favorite blanket. The sounds of my mother cooking downstairs, my sister upstairs, and my dad walking in the front door -- all soft lullabies of comfort, safety, and belonging crooning in my ear. The smells of a home cooked meal and the crisp air wafting in from the open door that my dad just walked in. Outside the window, snow falls in snowflakes to the ground like small kisses from the sky. In the next instant, I remember I am nowhere near home. I am at my new home, which may be temporary or permanent, and I feel lost and drifting. Will I ever find once again the roots of family and home, when I cannot feel more disconnected from my own? Or will I be forced to find a new location, a new emotional anchor? Perhaps I need a new place to rest my head, where I can listen to the sounds around me and they'll croon to me like a lullaby. And maybe then, during those cold nights, I can shut my eyes and feel truly at rest. Truly at home.