I really want to work on Baby Love right now, but I can’t seem to settle down. My mind is filled with these other little meanderings looking for a home. Are you home, dear blank page? Because these thoughts are seriously getting in the way of production. They’re clogging up the highway, so I really need to find them a permanent home. They’ve become so…. well…. loitery.
Author’s note: don’t use that word. I may have made it up.
This morning, my mind is filled with memories of almost four years in England. I struggle with the persistence of these memories, perhaps most of all. How can a place be missed even more than the human beings who inhabit it? I don’t know. I just don’t know. All I really do know is that when I close my eyes, I am so often there. The smell of damp air and trees and wet stone, and so many thousands of events imprinted upon any given space. The way the breeze was so cold coming off of the sea in November, or the rumble of fighter jets from the air base roaring overhead all day in the summer. I loved it there. I loved it there from the moment the door of the airplane opened and I first breathed Great Britain.
To be truthful, I wrote those first couple of paragraphs yesterday. Today I woke up with the word smitten on my mind, but that simple word brought me right back to England and that short period of my life where I felt at home. I was 100% smitten with England well before I was afforded the opportunity to live there thanks to the United States Air Force.
I was so genuinely happy there. I felt so at home, and I don’t understand why or how that is even possible. But the airplane door opened on December 7, 1998, and I saw that grey sky and that forest of tall, skinny, bare trees in the distant landscape surrounding RAF Mildenhall, and my heart was full. It was the strangest, strongest feeling.
They say that home is where your heart is, and I believe it. But why was this California girl’s heart in England? Okay, it might have been the mad crush I had on John Taylor (yes, of Duran Duran) when I was 13. But I don’t think so. I think there is something else, another reason that I haven’t yet discovered and may never know.
Tennessee reminds me of England. I have that same sense of home here, but I have begun to wonder if maybe that is because this is the first place that is ours. We haven’t made memories or plans or life here with anyone else; it’s just us. I’m so smitten with Nashville and all that it has to offer, but I’m more smitten with what we are together, no matter where we go. I’m beginning to think it isn’t Tennessee that feels like home. It’s him.
P.S. I’m also so so so smitten with Baby Love – and once this novel is complete, I hope you will be, too!