Home Sickness

I just went out for a smoke, and for some reason the falling acorns made me home sick.

Home sick?

I don't know know if home sick is the correct word, seeing as how the farm hasn't been my home for many years now.

But I guess it'll do.

The sound of the falling acorns made me think of the farm, and the fuzzy, warm, sunny memories of when I was little and living on the farm, and the sound of the figs falling on the gazebo were all I heard at night.

I don't know why. I wasn't particuarly happy as a kid on the farm. My parents argued all the time, and my dad was (and probably still is) a massive alcoholic. I've blocked most of my early childhood memories from that time.

Most of what I do remember are mum and dad arguing.

But there's also a few blurry memories of happiness ... most of them are very sunny, and don't have much to do with falling figs on the gazebo roof.

And my later memories of visiting dad and his new wife on the farm aren't all that good. Not bad. But not happy either. Just blah. They're there.

So I don't know why the falling acorns transported me back to a happy place that I'm pretty sure never existed, and made me feel home sick for it.