Homesickness? (2/7/2002)

I am pretty adaptable, never really suffering from homesickness, being content to be wherever I am. But occasionally I have a twinge of momentary melancholy that is usually triggered visually, but sometimes by a sound, a smell, a taste, or a thought. It is at times very powerful, causing a turn of the stomach, a surge of emotions.

For example, last fall as we were eating at the mall in La Ceiba, we noticed a Big Ten football game on the TV screen. We live in a land of eternal summer where the climate changes little, and it is easy to forget the time of year. Seeing the football game brought a flood of thoughts that rushed through my mind in a matter of a couple of seconds. It began with thoughts of fall colors, falling leaves, burning leaves, frost, blue sky, Ohio State football and our years in Columbus, our church there, friends, the struggle of surgical residency, then a jump to high school football and marching band, the sounds and smells of a Friday night game, pep rallies, friends from high school, and then a return to reality. It lasted only a few seconds, but the memories covered years of experience!

Yesterday it happened again. As I was going to the copy center in the mall, I walked past a store displaying televisions. There on about 20 screens were men luging down an ice-covered track. Snow was falling. It was obviously winter somewhere out there in the world.

I am not a sports fanatic, but my favorite sporting event is the Winter Olympics. My mind jumped to winter in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where we lived for 4 years. Cross-country skiing, snow shoeing, the squeaky crunch of snow under your feet on a clear cold night, a full moon on the snow, ice sickles, the stiffness of my nose hairs when it is below zero, ice fishing, the Northern Lights, friends, church, block heaters on our cars, shoveling snow, scraping windshields. Again, back to reality. A sense of melancholy. A thankfulness for friends and experiences.

It occurred to me how devastating life could be for those who live in the past, longing to repeat it, missing the fullness of the present. I cherish the memories, but look forward to making more. Maybe eternity will allow us the opportunity to reminisce with clarity, or maybe the present will be so overwhelming that we won’t give the past a second thought.

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