Honeysuckle Blue

My current address makes the sixth city that I've lived in since moving to the penis-shaped state back in the 1990's.  I was barely 16 when my family moved to Florida.  It wasn't my idea, and honestly I wasn't exactly thrilled at changing schools my Sophomore year of high school.  And what the hell did a farm girl from the mountains in Georgia know about palm trees and beaches anyway?  It's not like I was going to jump on a surf board and hang ten, for crying out loud.  I knew about tubing down the Toccoa River and jet skiing on the chilly waters of Lakes Lanier, Notley and Blue Ridge in the sweltering July heat.  Frankly, I thought (and still think sometimes) that Florida smelled like rotten eggs.  Swimming in waters that have the potential threats of alligators, sharks, jellyfish and the like just didn't thrill me.  I don't like sand between my toes--or in any other crevice for that matter.

My first landing place on the big move to Florida was the town of Indian Harbour Beach.  It's a small town, although compared to where I came from in Georgia, it was a bustling megalopolis full of promise.  Pizza delivery?  That actually exists?  Cable television?  These were things only dreamt of by those of us who grew up where I did.  Satellite Beach was next on the zip code tour of Central Florida.  Satellite and Indian Harbour are basically the same town.  Then came the big, fat ugly mistake:  Orlando.  My family stayed on the coast while my idiot self moved inland.  I hung in there in the interior for about 9 months before I made my way back to the coastal breezes of the Melbourne area.  A few years and boyfriends later, I found myself living on the west coast in Tampa.  After three years it was back to Melbourne... And now I'm in Longwood, which is a suburb of Orlando.  Incidentally, I lived in the wrong part of Orlando during my first foray to the interior parts of the Sunshine State.  Longwood is beautiful.  And really, the name Longwood is hilarious.  That shit's on my driver's license!

When I look back at all the places I've bounced around, I realize that I don't have a place I truly consider my hometown.  I was born in Gainesville, Georgia, a town I never lived in.  The place I associate my childhood with, Suches, is still missing from some maps because it has a post office, the smallest public school in the state of Georgia, and one convenience store.  That's ALL.  Blue Ridge, the town I lived in before I made my triumphant entrance into weiner land (aka Florida), probably would be the closest thing I have to a 'hometown'.  Here's the thing, though.  None of my family lives there.  I have very few friends there.  I haven't been back there in 13 long years.  I fear I wouldn't recognize it, there have been so many changes there since I left.

Although both my parents, my grandmother, a cousin and a stepsister live in Melbourne, I've never considered that home.  Yes, I know a lot of people there, and when I visit I often run into people I know.  I just never felt any sort of affection for that place.  I guess the way I feel is how military brats must feel.  When you move around a lot, you don't get a hometown.  I'm hardly complaining, because I have friends in each of the places I've mentioned.  I could have a couch to sleep on in Blue Ridge tonight if I wanted it.  I'm always welcome in Melbourne, especially because my family is there.  But there isn't that pull to come "home" to any of these places like there is with a real hometown.  When people ask me where I'm from, my answer is usually along the lines of, 'Originally from Georgia, but I've lived all over Florida most of my adult life.'  That's kind of a sad way of saying, 'I'm not really from anywhere except where I am right now.'

I do consider myself a Georgia Peach, however.  I am a Southerner in all the best ways (not the Bible-thumping, gun wielding, South-Shall-Rise-Again ways).  I suppose all I'm really trying to say is that home is where your heart is.  It's where you hang your hat and your heart.  I'm so glad to be happy where I am, even if it won't ever be where I'm "from".

*Today's title is from the song of the same name by Drivin' N' Cryin'.  Reminds me of Suches!

Lightning Bugs and Mountain Laurel

Last weekend, while visiting my father, we started talking about the farm that I grew up on in the North Georgia mountains.  We reminisced about how wonderful it was to live in such a unique place.  I honestly had the best childhood imaginable.  Our farm was surrounded on three sides by National Forest Service land, so it was quiet and serene.  We had horses (four of them) that I rode daily, rain or shine, sleet or snow.  It was a short walk to the Toccoa river, where I went fishing in the summers (along with tubing).

My dad decided he wanted to see if we could see the farm on Google Earth.  We were able to find it, and from what we could see, it doesn't look like much has changed.  I'm so thankful for that.  There was something very pure about living there, and I'd hate to think that someone had changed it.  I've always said that the very first thing I would do if I won the lottery is buy back the farm.  I know that sounds like a cliche, but it's so true.  There's nothing more than I would love than to move back to Suches.

When I think about going back to visit, it makes me sad.  I haven't been back there since I was 16.  I think that I'd have to have someone hold my hand and give me a shoulder to cry on...  Living there shaped who I am more than anything else.  It made me independent and self sufficient.  I learned about hard work and values, and to enjoy every minute of time I had there.

I can still smell the night-blooming jasmine floating on the evening air.  I can close my eyes and be right back on the porch, watching clouds of lightning bugs and hearing locusts croak.  It seems so long ago, but all those memories are right there in the forefront of my brain.  I can see the light purple mountain laurel in bloom, I can hear the river off in the distance...  I hate not being there.  If there's anywhere I could wish myself to, it would be back there.