Many moons ago, I blogged about the Welsh word hiraeth (HEER-eyeth). The word is used to describe a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or even a home which maybe never was. It describes a sense of nostalgia and yearning for lost places of your past.
I’ve thought of that word many times since then, and wondered why we don’t have such a word in our language. Am I the only one who gets this word? Who deeply feels this longing for places in my childhood that I can never return to? I’m pretty sure I’m not.
The above picture was drawn by my Aunt Rebecca. It depicts me (as a small child) approaching my grandma. I love this image. It shows how casual life could be up there in the mountains–my grandma in her fuzzy slippers and floppy hat. She added vines of wisteria for a whimsical effect that I find especially fun. It also reminds me of how much I always wanted to spend time with my grandmother, and in the picture I’m walking toward her carrying my own smaller version of her coffee mug.
If there were a place and time that I could return to for just a while, it would be here–on my grandparents’ porch. I’d share my drink and ask her to tell me stories. To have that moment would satisfy the longing I feel for that place and those people. If you could have that moment, where and when would it take you? Who would you see? What would you do? I’d love to hear your stories.