Wondering...

   I got a call from one of my real dad's sisters this weekend. It seems that my dad has gotten a little better, and is even on a week-long hunt with one of his friends. I am glad to hear that he is getting around some. I never need question his toughness, for I am borne of the same stuff as he.

 

       This sister pleaded with me to come and see my dad. I sort of shined her on, so as not to hurt her feelings. I sort of want to see him, but I am undecided about all of it. What would I possibly say to him? Would we "catch up" on over forty years of my life? Of his life? It is all too daunting for me. But, there is another reason, a purely selfish one at that.

 

          When I went to Missouri to identify my mother's body, I had to fight the urge to stay. I would have stayed right then. I would have given up all my ties here at "home", to be there. There was never any question as to when. I was ready right then and there! I cannot go back at this time, I would never return here. Never.

 

        Is it a call to my destiny, or a simple longing to be back where it all started? Can one really never return home? Can one never go back as we are told all our lives? I can't buy that. When I went to Missouri for my mother, the moment I climbed out of my brother's truck, I was connected; I belonged there. I still do.

 

        Could I leave my home, my wife, kids, and my very life here? In a heartbeat. Why? I have never felt like I belonged anywhere in my life. I belong in the mountains of Missouri. Like a fish belongs in water. I can't shake this feeling. If I go, I go with a Ryder truck packed with my possessions, never to return here, never to return to this life. Only to carry on a new life, or, to continue the life that started over forty years ago, in a land that accepts me without question. A land that makes me feel whole, and complete. The land of my birth, my beginning, and my end.

 

                 Holla' If You Hear Me!!!