This coming weekend marks the entrance into my ninth year living in Savannah. While I love my new home and the welcoming spirit of the south, I can't help but spend nights longing for the northern air.
I miss the brilliant colors of Fall.
I miss the cool breeze of a Spring night, standing in front of an open window as the air grazes your skin. I miss the dazzling blinks of the lightning bugs from Summer. I miss seeing the mountains and the view that was garnered from standing atop them, looking back into the valley, pretending that you could see your house.
No, I don't miss the 31st snowfall of the year, but I do miss the 1st and the blinding white that comes with it. I miss the fact that the ground freezes every year, killing everything. And I miss seeing life miraculously sprout out from that frozen earth during the first thaw.
I meet many who have spent their whole lives in the south and can't understand why it is that I long for the north. Some even go so far as to call it crazy, incomprehensible. To them, I answer, I simply call it home.
