Home

Every once in a while, it feels appropriate to do a twofer, and this is one of those times. Working on my post last night, I was listening to Mumford and Sons Below My Feet on youtube.

When the song ended, this one immediately started to play:

I ran away in floods of shame
I'll never tell how close I came
As I crossed the Holland Road
Where you went left and I went right
As the moon hung proud and bright
You would have loved it here tonight

Spin me round, just to pin me down
On the cover of this strange bed
Spin me round, just to pin me down

Wrap up your questions, keep them down
Let the water lead us home
And I was sorry for what I'd done
And you were young I was not old
But our story was not told
But torn apart by greedy hands

Spin me round, just to pin me down
On the cover of this strange bed
Spin me round, just to pin me down

Spin me round, just to pin me down

I'll be home in a little while
Lover, I'll be home
And I'll be home
In a little while, lover I'll be home

The song is beautiful, but even more than that, I was struck by a comment that someone else posted. He said that it reminded him of a Welsh word, hireath, which doesn't have a direct translation but is something along the lines of: "a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or that never was." 

Man do I ever feel that meaning. I think that's what so much of my grief is about -- the home I didn't have when I was a child -- the home with two parents who loved each other that I didn't get to give my kids -- and the home with the New Englander which I reckon I felt hireath about starting way back that first winter that he lived in Madison -- so late 2011. 

And I'll be home in a little while
Lover, I'll be home
And I'll be home in a little while
Lover, I'll be home

Yes you will, mystery man and soon-to-be lover. Yes you will.