Who Wants the Funk?

I don't, but it certainly has made itself quite at home here.

Last night I suffered a bout of homesickness. It hit hard in the most random of places: the Pei Wei in Green Hills.

After visiting another church, famished and unable to find anyone to join me for dinner, I went alone to Pei Wei. I ordered something my friend highly recommended and sat at a long table flanked by 2 couples enjoying dinner together.

My food came out and I was puzzled. The side of lo mein I'd ordered was nothing more than a bowl of dry, noodles. Perplexed I had it sent back and asked for the stir-fried version with veggies. The server returned with a bowl of the same dry noodles and steamed vegetables on top. Tired and hungry, I gave up and ate the odd concoction until my stomach would no longer allow me to.

The combination of visiting a strange church alone where not a single soul came over to say hello, eating alone again, not having spoken to anyone all day and now filling my mouth with weird "Asian" food, cracked the shell of confidence I'd successfully held up for 2 weeks.

I began to miss home. First, it was the yumminess of Chinatown. Then, the great restaurants in Philly. Then, Philly. And, finally, friends and family back home. Sitting in the middle of Pei Wei (by that time the only person left at that long, empty table), I was beginning to feel the aches of homesickness.

A heaviness of melancholy heaved itself on me. Tears began to well up and I did my best to push them down. I made it to the WholeFoods parking lot and into my car before the dam broke and the tears began to pour.

I cried all the way home.

It was the kind of cry you'd expect from a child who had gotten herself lost in the middle of an amusement park or a department store. It was a cry of silent desperation full of sighs and deep breaths that were never quite long enough to catch enough air. Pangs of loneliness and fear filled me. I felt lost and was in desperate need of consoling (and lots of long, warm hugs).

By God's good grace, a friend called me. The sound of a familiar voice was uplifting. And it made me realize how much I needed and missed the sound of loved ones' voices. To hear the warmth and weight of each word fall on my ears. The sound of laughter. The intonations and inflections of every syllable like heartbeats. [I need more of this. So much more of this.]

Today, the homesickness and loneliness linger. They sit beside me now as I type, whispering their sad songs in my ears. I am unmotivated to do anything productive. Rather I'd just like to sleep or eat tons of chocolate.

I'm really hoping this feeling goes as quickly as it came...