A strange and familiar feeling is hitting me. It’s homesickness, and the reason it’s strange is because technically, I am home.
I suppose this is what happens when you have more than one home. When you stay in one for too long, inevitably you begin to miss the other. Unfortunately, my other home, England, is out of reach at the moment. Maybe someday, but not now. Definitely not.
But being out of reach only makes me miss it more.
It’s spring in Winchester. In Calgary the weather is alternating between sun and snow by the day, but Winchester is mostly sun with the occasional rainfall. The flowers will be blooming and the graveyard will have the longest grass about now before it’s nice enough out to cut it.
My family have still never seen Winchester. I have a list on places to take my siblings if I could. I’ve been thinking about putting them in a little Guide to Winchester. Let me know if you think that’s a good idea and you would want to read that. If you don’t, I might write it anyway. It might help with the homesickness.
Precarious Writer 