Home is where my suitcase is. 🧳

A quick visit to Missouri... and some hastily taken photos.

This is Essay #148

We have new subscribers! 👋 Thanks for being here! I’m feeling nostalgic as I came back to visit the farm in Missouri. I want to share some of it with you. The photos aren’t my best, but it will give you an idea of how beautiful and peaceful this little oasis is!

AND… if you can, please consider becoming a paid subscriber for only $35 a year.

Or a one time donation… maybe buy me a coffee here! Thanks!

Hellloooo, Missouri. It’s been awhile. This is now my official mailing address, but who gets mail these days anyway? 🤷🏼‍♀️

People who know how much I bop around ask me, don’t you miss home?

But I have no idea where that is.

With little family, Tim dying way too soon, and sadly, no sustainable personal relationships on the horizon (Is it me? It must be me. 😜), the world has become my home, a big backyard to explore.

Yet, every time I’m back at the farm, I feel the immediate connection to my roots. And on this trip back, flowers were the reminder.

Great-grandmother Mae planted these Tiger Lilies so long ago… and through the years, they’ve only gotten stronger and more vibrant. The rich color is an aphrodisiac of hummingbirds. And after the rain, they were magnificent.

To some, Sweet Pea Vine is a roadside weed. At the farm, it was Grandmother Nellie Lee’s favorite… and year and after year, it makes a showy appearance.

Early morning dew on Sweet Pea Vine.

Nature doesn’t care where I am… she will not be denied. She’s ready to greet me with messages from my ancestors when I pull in the driveway. To remind me… no matter where I go, this is where I started.

We are so isolated here. The nearest neighbor is a mile down a gravel road. A real grocery store is an hour away. But, mornings here (never my best time of day) are worth waking up for. (Yes, I said that!) Heavy dew, absolute quiet except for the concert of singing birds… the rest of the world races on, but here, time stands still.

Foggy morning in the backyard, a haven for birds.

Thankfully, the friend I call my brother rents the house and keeps things running so I don’t have to worry. A farmer plants and harvests. The dogs never fail to remember me, the cats ignore me like they always do.

The corn this year is healthy and tall, my brothers peppers, Shadow the Cat on her way to hunt in the field, and a head from garlic.

After months of being gone, I go through my closet like I’m in a store… it all looks new. I think, “I forgot I had that’ or ‘I wonder if this still fits’. I get reacquainted with my jewelry drawer and my desk.

For the time being, a suitcase is my closet. I don’t even know if I want to stay in this racist, angry country anymore where the average American IQ seems to drop a point or two every month. We’ve really lost our way. 🙄

I’m alone in America… so why not be alone in Europe or, well, anywhere else? When the time comes to finally put my socks in a drawer, I can come back to the farm, tend the lilies, and listen to the birds.

But I just bought a new suitcase… and there is no reason to stop using it.

I’m super grateful for my digital family… thanks for being part of Susan Speaks! Keep your head up as we try to get to the other side of this tragic time in America. Love you guys!