An Ache Unsoothed

Last week was Thanksgiving. Duh. And I LOOOOOVE this time of year.  Love it. Halloween always puts me off a little because it can be so nasty and expensive and greedy (candy! candy! candy!  And that's just coming from the mom and dad around here!). But then comes November with all its thankfulness and cool weather and anticipation of Christmas when we can focus on the ultimate Gift.  And in the midst of all this is family. This year I was beyond anxious to get back to the other side of the lake.  We hadn't visited our Michigan peeps since August. And that is just too too long for this girl. 
I've been a little homesick lately. Curiously, I often still refer to Michigan as "home" .  Sometimes I physically ache for it. Once in awhile even shed a few tears. I long for the people, obviously.  (Side note: I've come to understand that if you don't have friends and/or family there, you might not get how one can yearn for "Michigan people".  I did not understand what a breed apart "Michigan people" are considered until I moved to Chicago.  I stand by my homeland, however.)  But I also long for the decreased madness that can constitute the pace of life here, the sense of cohesive community, the scenery, the feel of Michigan sand between my toes. Back in high school, whenever I needed somewhere to go to clear my head, I'd hop in my car and drive out to the beach.  Even if I didn't get out once I got there, all I needed was to catch a glimpse of the waves at sunset or even by moonlight, and I felt a little more ready to face life.  It was a soothing destination. Here, if I hopped in my car to clear my head I'd probably end up in Nebraska or Alabama.
I think that the real issue here is a restlessness in my soul, something I have been trying to address and flesh out.  And that restlessness translates into a desire for change, a fresh start, going back to the roots. I know that a lot of this pondering is just an idyllic existence that I've built up in my mind about a small town. And I know that if I left this home, that I would be left missing my tribe here, the ones who have become my family. So it appears that I must resign myself to  some loss and longing in my life.
Which only makes sense, really, since what I'm really searching for is my true Home. Everything else here is just a substitute.