I’ve loved North Carolina since I arrived here, nearly 40 years ago. But sometimes I still miss the familiarity of my youth, so much it hurts.
I miss being surrounded by family…the grown ups speaking Yiddish when they didn’t want the kinder to hear…the smells of potato latkes, knishes and grebenes (onions cooked in chicken fat till crispy)…the sense of iving in a very Jewish world.
I miss my mom’s style, my dad’s enthusiasm, my brother’s teasing, even Grandma Rose’s big wet kisses. (Euwwww!)
“Homesick.” That’s how Margaret diagnosed my condition, and it sounds right to me. I’m homesick for a home that only exists in my memories and a few photographs. And now that I think about it, I realize how lucky I am to have them.
My mother’s centerpiece. (Notice the candleholders, which are goblets turned upside down.)