Days of homesickness are insignificant per se. They just pass - like they always have - to simply give way to routine and occasional satisfaction. Though the terrible truth of such days is the intuition of future they breed inside the heart of the sufferer: A future when I am bereft of loved ones and close friends. Dark days when I shall miserably stand against the tide of loneliness with no where yet to lean my shoulder. I am speaking of days of old age, which only seem to be far away, but are in truth a few blinks away from reality.

May you never leave your home, nor ever your home leave you to yourself.