of missing Virginia

so, there are days when i feel like i can speak of the incredible gap in my heart due to the leaving of Virginia. The leaving of a place, of which i was so fond. The place we stopped out of magical accident to become a family.
Make no mistake, all you Virginians, that we miss it all dearly. In fact, make no mistake that we knew we would. In my journal i spoke of a heart bruised all black and blue and green at the thought of leaving such beautiful people, and therefore, i could not think of it as we did it.
so, what do we miss. aaahh, there is the obvious...the people we love so dearly. the people who are our family- both the family that we were born into, and the family that our children were born into- essentially the people with whom we became a family. That is thick. We miss coffee on random mornings with tex and dreama. we miss coffee on many mornings and throughout the day with my mommas. we miss knowing on a friday afternoon that Grandpa tree and uncle mark would probably be coming through in who knows what car on their way to angels view. We miss other things like the 3 Pigs and running into too many people at the grocery store. We miss the smell.
I miss some things i didn't think so much about while i was there. The energy of some women who, toiled is the only word that fits, for the rest of us to have a vote. The women who finally did. And there is the undoubtable energy of the era of slavery. so many women and men and children that my heart screams with the sheer thought of it. That land is teeming with secrets and messages that i always felt if i was quiet enough i could hear...if nothing else, i could feel the breath of them on a hot day, in the swing, as ones heart just up and sings...
Anyways, its too late now to eloquently say just what it is that we miss, that i miss. But its big and sticky all the same.
In the meantime i go to the river. The Chinook are spawning, and right by our house. I go down to see the big old ladies. Maia watches in rapt silence, keeps his eyes on one and watches its progress, and stella cheers them all on- screaming "go salmon go! you are doing so good!" And maybe we'll go hunting for chanterelles, Although every gourmet cookbook i look in now calls for ramps...

so here's the think i wrote, oh 2 years ago as we contemplated the "adventure move" and as always i asked the question i may be branded with...Where is my home?

My name is Lisa
Where do you live?
I live in music-like Ntozake says
And in color and texture and the fumes of melting wax
I live in the noodles I scrape from the kitchen floor
And in my children’s eyes and smiles
And in the smoke of another burnt piece of toast
And also in the cooking of tomatoes
Which we grew in a muddy garden that was edged in urine.
I’ve lived here since I met the owl that watched over me
During my escape from midnight motherhood
Since the newness of my son
And the crossness of my crying for some frantic relief from his colic
I’ve lived here since the creek-side baptism back in our infatuation
With banjos and the art of fried chicken
Really, since I was young.
As for this house, this town, even this state
I don’t really live here
Someday I might
Maybe when I’m on the other side of the country in a town and a house
Far from this one
Maybe as I look out a window I will breathe in these mountains
And then I will live in the cold comfort of the southern drawl
Which I still don’t understand.
I’ve lived so many places it’s hard ever to say where,
Where are you from?
Well, lately I’ve been living in the “come find me” game
With my breasts hanging out
And in the newly awakened gait of two recent female feet stomping down our hall
I’ve lived in the basement on good nights with my love
And in the take-me-back binges while we worshipped our dreams
But mostly I always live in my dreams
Of color
Of future
Of RV’s and roads, recently
Yeah, I live in music and laughter and screaming
And yes, I do like it here.


So, have i learned my lesson yet?