Writing music always pulls emotions up closer to the surface. Weather changes make me happy. Or sad. Depends on what changes and how. Listening to my older daughter’s music is always emotional.
But really, I think what I’m feeling today is the 3-week itch.
We’ve noticed as we travel that when we land somewhere for a while, at about the 3-week mark, we start to get itchy feet. Fiona starts asking “When are we going to drive again? I’m tired of being in houses.” Sue starts looking for places to go; organising events and coming up with reasons to be on the go, on the road.
We love being here in Arizona. Terry and Virgie are even more dear than they were before we came. Nothing is wrong.
I just wanna leave.
Songwriters have used the wind as a metaphor (or maybe it’s a simile) for ages. Some of us live our lives knowing we have to see what’s around that bend, over the hill, across that river or in the next little town.
I can’t see that from inside a house. Adventure isn’t parading past our door looking for me.
Nomads don’t settle. Nomads move; we’re made from the wind and the sea and the sky, and precious little earth.
I’m a whirling flowing wind that needs to blow.