I pulled onto I-380 from the Eastern Iowa Airport. A farmer was harvesting corn in a nearby field. The clouds in the sky were gray with rain in the forecast. Either riding with a family member or renting a car, I have made this highway entry dozens, if not hundreds, of times since moving from Iowa in 1976. I feel anticipation, relief, and a bit of sadness that I am “home” for a while.
I felt something different when my parents were alive than I feel today. I looked forward to being back on the farm and to conversations with them over the breakfast and dinner table—catching up on my travels as well as what family news was happening. I used to think of home as a place, but as I head to my sister’s home today, I identify with the idea of home associated with a feeling or a connection.
A I am drawn to the popular song Elvis Presley recorded “Home is where the heart is.” He contends that home is wherever he is with a special person. For me, going home to Iowa meant reconnecting with my parents. Although I enjoy my family and growing number of great nieces and nephews, I feel a hole in my home since my folks are no longer on this earth.
I lived in North Carolina for 27 years, and it never felt like “home” to me. The wide-open spaces always called to me. Although beautiful, my house in North Carolina felt enclosed by the dozens of trees. Open spaces existed when I was walking on Atlantic Ocean beaches, but I realized after time at the beach that I am a mountain person. I wished for home, as a place, to be about peaks and valleys.
I now live in the mountains and yearn for this environment to be home. I love the landscapes but am realizing home is not about a space as I once thought. I have a community, and I appreciate the friendships I have gained through volunteering, hiking, and musical performances. On the other hand, I need more time and connections before Colorado will be more than a physical place.
Perhaps if I had a special someone in Estes Park, I would feel different. Nevertheless, Iowa will always be my home of origin as I value the potential of new opportunities in Estes Park as a choice for my heart.
And why is it, I wonder, that Iowa feels like home to me as well? I have never lived there, but when I travel to the Ida Grove area, it feels like the center of my universe, the place from which I took flight. Perhaps it is because Iowa is the source of my mother’s roots. Maybe that’s it. From mother to son, a longitudinal umbilical cord-like connection. Reminds me of Scott Russell Sanders’s writings and his discussion of the importance of rootedness in a world of constant change.
Thanks for your thoughts, Dan. Hopefully we can discuss all this in person soon. Maybe it is something about a “culture” that also makes places feel like home. I will think more about your comments.