Homesick

I’m homesick. Homesick for dad grilling dinner on the grill while the family comes over. Homesick for late-night TV watching on a quilt-covered couch. Homesick for the rickety wooden ramp leading up to the house. Homesick for slip-n-sliding with cousins in the backyard. Homesick for skinny cow ice cream sandwiches in uncle Larry’s pool. Homesick for worshiping in in English at church. Homesick for pier 419. Homesick for eating cheese crackers on grandfather’s boat. But I’m also homesick for campfires in Croatia. Homesick for leather couches in a hotel lobby in Hungary. Homesick for eating Pringles at the beach in Thess, homesick for the little hotel in Bulgaria. I think that it isn’t the places I’m homesick for; it’s the people who made me feel, in those little moments, at home.