My daughter and I had a conversation a few days ago about what place and home means to each of us.
I spent my early years in Saskatchewan, and the vastness of the prairie landscape and the endless skies say home to me. Though I haven’t on the prairie for over thirty years when I am there I feel planted and filled with a peace that eludes me the rest of the time.
My daughter was born in British Columbia and she longs for the mountains and rivers of that place. She misses the long, hot, dry summers and refuses to call the prairie landscape where she now lives her home. The Rocky Mountain range that she can see in the distance constantly calls her to return.
Yesterday I started reading Together, Alone by Susan Wittig Albert. (I highly recommend it, by the way.) Susan talks about her own attachment to place and home in the Texas Hill Country where she lives and writes with her husband.
There is, in these whispers of place that I am sensing, a message for me. Like Susan Albert says in Together, Alone, “To hear it, I have to be patient, and still, and silent.”