Sunday Solitaire

October 18th, 2009

When the marsh begins to change color in the fall and it’s a chilly Sunday and there are candles flickering on the coffee table while I read and the wind shakes the porch chimes all day, I might get a little homesick. Not for a particular place so much as for things barely remembered, the whatever that’s always just over the next hill or beyond a distant stand of trees. Maybe my soul is homesick, longing for something it can’t name, something sensed but unseen. Sometimes when I’m meditating, a piece of music like Satie’s Gymnopedie No 3 or Ayub Ogada’s Kothbiro (which sounds like a vast lonely blue sky seen through a tall window) almost puts me in that place without a name. But then the timer chime sounds or I start wondering about what to have for dinner, and then I land back in my life with a gentle thud. Still me, still earthbound, still happy to be here. But always looking for home.

4 Responses to “Sunday Solitaire”

  1. mary ann says:

    Oh Nikki your writing never fails to leave me with either a lump in my throat or big laugh in my belly. today i have the former.

  2. anna maria says:

    Oh, you've nailed it.
    Mary Ann just sent me here, because I've been whining lately about a sense of "rootlessness" that I can't quite put my finger on, of wanting to be somewhere, but not knowing where that somewhere is.
    Just reading about someone else's similar feelings makes me feel a bit less baffled.

  3. Marion says:

    That you land back in your life with a gentle thud is a wonderful, delightful and oh-so-appropriate image. I love it. Just marvelous. Thank you for that. I totally get it. Write on. It's a joy to read.

  4. renovatingrita says:

    I recently stumbled upon your blog and want to tell you, I feel as though I've found an agate on the beach. A polished bit of unexpected treasure. Thank you.