it always kicks in about this time of year, like clockwork. triggered by cooler mornings and shortening evenings – perhaps a little earlier this year as the summer has come crashing to a wet and chilly end – my stomach fills with longing for my new england autumn. *my* new england autumn – it is embedded in my bones and sinew, as much a part of my dna as my brown eyes. that ache rises within me like a swelling tide, in rhythm with the wax and wane of the harvest moon. it pulls on me, tugs on the ties of my heart that cross the ocean like long distance telephone wires, anchoring deep in chilled beach dunes and jewel-coloured woods. anchoring in the smell of crisp leaves underfoot and bonfire smoke. anchoring in the deep golden sunlight playing off the water. those visceral sense memories… i close my eyes and the waves of yearning for home wash over me, saturate me, and i spill over.

regina spektor – the call

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