I’ve come to realize when I am on vacation or up in Wisconsin, Wednesdays are the days when I most want to be home. Even when I’m with my family, by Wednesday I am homesick.

I am missing my own space. I want to be in MY house with my things and that cat of mine, cuddling in my arms. Given the chance on Wednesday’s I would pack up and drive (or fly) home.

By Thursday morning it has usually passed and I am fine. But Wednesday’s… They are rough.

I have always been this way. Once when staying at my Grandma and Grandpa’s overnight, with my cousin, Laurie, I needed to be driven home long after we should have been asleep.

I stayed with my Aunt Ethel and Uncle Harry while my folks were gone for a week. The homesickness hit early in the week and lasted until they came home…in spite of even being offered ice cream for breakfast.

I never went to Senior High camp during the summer. The fear of the homesickness kept me away. I finally did go on some weekend retreats, after all weekends don’t have Wednesdays!

My first trip to St. marten was by myself (no niece), over Christmas and with employers and their family who were not as familiar to me as they are now, ten years later. I called my parents and said, “if I could get on a plane right now, I would.”

I have always been a homebody. And it isn’t feeling lonely, it is homesickness, pure and simple. I suppose a therapist could have a field day with that.

I’ve decided Wednesday’s just require more chocolate to get me over the hump.

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