“Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”

Today is April on Cape Cod. It is cloudy, windy and cold. Henry is upstairs sleeping while Jack is here beside me. Gwen is in her room. All is right with my world.

My to do list is blank. It is just one of those days, a sloth day. I have a trash bag, a litter bag and boxes to put in the car but not yet because Henry has an appointment tomorrow with his therapist, and I need the back seat empty. I’m already nervous about Henry and the car. His new halter is still in the hall lying on the floor. I don’t want to traumatize him twice. This is his one year follow-up appointment.

I always thought most Sundays were wasted days when I was a kid. I had to go to mass and then hang around the house waiting for dinner. The only good Sundays were in the summer when it was often early mass and then the beach for the rest of the day. Lunch, at the beach, was a sandwich, a gritty sandwich. Oreos were snacks. They never got gritty.

When I was a kid, dogs roamed. I remember Duke, my dog, and his son Sam would meet up and roam together in a pack of two. One time my father got a call from a neighbor that both dogs were in the neighbor’s front yard and wouldn’t move. The neighbor was afraid to leave the house thinking the dogs would attack, but both were boxers, gentle dogs who looked fierce. Come to find out, the neighbor’s dog was in heat, and neither Duke nor Sam had any inclination to leave. My father went and put both dogs into the car. I suspect they were disappointed.

My friend Bill sent me a video filmed in Ghana. It was filmed in the Northern Region, about 100 miles from where we lived in Bolga. The tourist was a Ghanaian who hadn’t ever been north. She flew from Accra to Tamale and filmed the approach and landing at Tamale Airport. Out her window I could see the savannah and the brown grass. That went to my heart. I wanted to be there, dry season or not. When I wrote to Bill about my reaction, my longing, he said he had felt the same way. It is not easy to explain why. Just know that Peg, Bill and I love Ghana, and we’d like to make one more trip, one more return home.

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4 Comments on ““Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling””

  1. Bob Says:

    Hi Kat,

    I think when we spend awhile in a place as you did in Ghana, it becomes your second home. This is especially true if you have made lots of friends with the locals. I may be a New Yorker to a real Texan, but they are getting harder to find among the new comers who have been moving here. I consider my self a Texan, after 56 years, since both my children were born here. Unless you live in the country or hang out at the Stockyards in Ft. Worth, it’s hard to find a cowboy hat or a pair off cowboy boots.

    Today the sky doesn’t have even one cloud and the temperature topped out at 85°. The southwest winds are blowing in the warm dry air from the high plains of Mexico at 15 to 20 miles per hour.

    It’s been a wonderful day so far. My daughter and I lunched in the car at the local park and watched a couple of Seinfeld episodes on the iPad. These are the days when it’s not too hot yet and we can spend some time outdoors and not be close to a swimming pool. 🙂

    • katry Says:

      Hi Bob,
      Ghana has had a place in my heart since I lived there. I am so glad I have had the chance to go back. I figure you earned being a Texan. The New York in you faded in all that time.

      It stayed cold today and sunless. I didn’t do a thing which is what I had planned. I didn’t ‘t even get dressed. It was a comfy day.

      I’m glad you’re taking advantage of the weather before it gets so hot you have to jump from AC to AC though for me 85˚ would already been there!

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