Day 23: Share One of You Favorite Tunes

There are SO many to choose from. This category is possibly worse than the movies. Here are a few:
Ingrid Michaelson - You and I
Alannis Morissette - That I Would Be Good
Mormon Tabernacle Choir - Homeward Bound (the long story of why I love this song is below) and Take Time to Be Holy
The Beatles - Life Goes On
Billy Joel - almost anything
Rachmaninoff - almost anything but especially Variations on a Theme of Paganini (here's one of them, 18 is the most well known) and his second Piano Concerto
Verdi - Nessun Dorma

Shortly after we moved to Madison, I got to feeling homesick. So, as was my daily custom at the time, I decided to call my mom, who answered her phone (miracle of miracles) and she told me she was listening to my song. I didn’t know I had a song. She played part of it for me, but I’d never heard it before. Then she read me the words of the chorus and said it describes me. She doesn’t even know what it’s called because she just calls it “Melanie’s Song.” Of course, I had to look it up and read the lyrics. Then I cried. Then I downloaded it. And I still cry every time I hear it. It really does fit me. These are the words:

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure’s lost its meaning,
I’ll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

If you find it’s me you're missing, if you’re hoping I’ll return.
To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning, and in the road I’ll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end.
And the path I’ll be retracing when I’m homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing,
I’ll be homeward bound again.

I guess I’ve always had to go off on my own way and find out what it was I needed to do. I’ve always been independent, known where I was, and been determined to get wherever I was going. My mom loves to tell stories of me being lost as a small child. Whenever she would find me, she would tell me how worried she had been. And I would always reply, “don’t worry Mom, I wasn’t lost! I knew where I was.” Little comfort for a mother, but it made perfect sense to my little mind. I was only lost if I didn’t know how to get back where I came from or how to get where I was going. I was a little quick to lose sight of other people’s interest in where I might be.

And now I’ve wandered away again. But I still only feel lost when I lose sight of where I came from or where I’m going. I was excited to move away to college, two hours from home. Mom told me that when she dropped me off for my first week of college, she cried as I walked away from the car. I was just excited about what lay ahead. I did cry when I came home for my first visit a mere ten days later.

My emotions were similar when I left on my mission to Italy. It seemed like everyone at the MTC was crying, except me. I was just excited to finally be leaving on my mission and beginning my great adventure. After a few weeks within the confines of the MTC, it finally set in that I wasn’t going to see my family for eighteen months. And then I really missed them. I think perhaps I couldn’t leave them if I didn’t look ahead to what I was gaining. But I do always have to leave. There’s just something about me that always has to go and do. I tried to explain it to my mom once. It wasn’t that I wanted to leave my family or my home, I just had to go and see the world. I wasn’t trying to get away from anything, but I had to go.

I came home for a while after my mission, but that was hard on both me and my parents. When I left again, it was to Virginia. Somehow I had no fear, even though I’d never been there and did not know a soul. I still can’t believe I did it, but I had to go. As my parents drove me to the airport, my mom said again how sad she was that I was leaving. She said she thought I’d never be back. And I guess I never will, at least not to stay. But I never thought much about what I was leaving behind, only what I was gaining. And however many times I fly home for a visit and leave again, it’s always hard to go. But I just know that I have to go.

I love to be home. One of my favorite things in the world is Sunday dinner with my family, where we all just sit around the table and talk long after we’ve finished eating. I love to be with my family and in a familiar comfortable place. Nothing will ever be home in quite the way my mom and dad’s house is. And as much as I always leave, I will just as surely always come back. I depend upon that home being there for me, however far I may wander.

And my mom probably doesn’t realize that she is one of the ways I get my bearings. I’ll call her for a pep talk, or just a regular talk. I can remember several bad days when I’ve called her and just cried on the phone. She has no idea at all, but I just sit there and cry and listen to her tell me about whatever. I just need to hear her voice and have a piece of home.

This last move, to Madison, was the hardest ever. For the first time I had no reason to go, and I really didn’t want to. But, for very different reasons, I knew I had to go. This time the ties of my husband were pulling me away. So I got in the car and drove away. But for the first year I called home nearly every day, and I depended on my next visit coming. I longed to be there more than I can express. And I still often long to be nearer my family, even though I have found a wonderful home here. In some strange way, even though I'm always leaving, I'm simultaneously longing for home.

I depend upon my visits home, and upon my cell phone to keep me connected. And I still talk about living near family, because I can’t let go of the possibility yet. It’s hard to admit that I will probably never live close to my family again, to accept that reality that my mother articulated years ago. Now that I have a daugther, I’m even more sad that I will be so far from my family. I don’t know why I feel such a need to go off crusading around the world (as my mom calls it), but I do. I have to pursue the adventures that, I hope, will make my family proud and allow me to improve the world. But just as surely, I have to check in and go home as often as possible. I need my crusades, but not any more than I need my home.