11.26.2007 - 3:03 p.m.

In a classroom nearby, someone is playing a viola, or a recording of a viola, and for a while I was sitting here, entering assessment data in little columns, focusing completely on my laptop screen, feeling the thin light on my back from the window as that music, wandering and unidentified, rippled over me.

I was also in my parents' house, in that corner bedroom that was once mine, my little brother practicing for a recital in the front room down the hall. It was not 2007 but some timeless, other place.

I have always flirted with homesickness, though I don't quite believe in it--you should be where you are, and to dwell in some other time poisons the space around you--but sometimes it catches me anyway. And I don't regret it, when it happens.

But it's one of the reasons I spread out my visits.

-stonebridge

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