Not being able to go home to live. Experiencing the ripeness and the sharpness of the Virginia seasons. The lush raunchy laughter of daughter, sister, mother, aunts, female cousins and friends. Women with the same language and idioms. Women with shared memories and diabolical sense of humour.   

Autumn in England is harbinger of months of drear isolation from my people, from my village, from my tribe when I am in most need.

I have been in so much pain and hence medicated to senselessness since October last year. I've not had much to contribute to Mudcat. And afaid I still don't, if i ever did.   So now I will go back to mostly lurking.

Mudcat visits often brighten my outlook a bit. I find echoes of what I love about my homeland abound here.