Homesick

Do you think it's possible to be homesick for somewhere when you're, ah, well...already home? I do. Because I am, and have been for, oh, I don't know...maybe six years? Yeah, you heard me right. I've been homesick from home for a place I don't live for over half a decade.

And you thought I was normal, didn't you? Ha!

All right, the explanation. We used to have a house on one of the most wonderful places on earth. We sold it about six years ago. At the time we planned to buy another home there but to make a long story short we couldn't find one to suit our needs. So we let the idea go but even though the idea went, love for the place lingers. In a really big way.

A few years ago I wrote a murder novel called Sniffing Sand, set on the place that makes my heart homesick. It's the first in a series of books set there so I get to revisit the island over and over again--at least in my mind and on my screen. Sniffing Sand releases in July, by the way. The second novel in the series, Sandswept, releases this December. It's what I've been working on for the past few weeks, and what's made my usually controlled homesickness rise to the surface.

Who ever said love is easy?

So where's the spot that calls me home? Chincoteague Island, in Virginia. I love, love, love the place. It's like heaven on earth and there isn't a day I don't contemplate the roar of the ocean, feel the golden dunes beneath my toes or hear the birdsong that fills the air over that island. I love where we live but there'll always be a special spot in my heart for Chincoteague.

Have I said I love the place? Oh, right. So, anyway...

Working on Sandswept, going back every day to the place where we spent so many happy times, makes me want to go back. Not just in writing world but in real life. And my desire to go there isn't just a small, niggling thing--I want to go back in a big way. Big. Really.

Last night I dreamed we were there, walking on the beach. I saw the water, smelled the salt, smiled at the whelks littering the sand. Then I woke up.

*Sigh*

This morning I was reading the New York Times when a headline caught my eye.

Paddling, Wining and Dining on the Other Eastern Shore

You didn't think I didn't know where that was, did you? Before my mouse moved I knew and a grin stole over my face. Then--the article! Pictures--of home!

Yeah, I'm homesick. Just so you can see what posessess me, the article.

Is there a place that calls you home, even from home? Somewhere you love and would return to in a heartbeat? Half a heartbeat? Please tell me there is. I'd hate to think I've got some weird mental homesick illness or, worse even, am the victim of an island mind and heart takeover and will need, I don't know, a location exorcism or some such gruesome thing.

I'd much rather it's a case of plain, ordinary homesickness.