Bob Dylan, the Florida Rain, and Me

This is my first Thanksgiving far from home and without my family.

I can’t tell you how homesick I am.

I miss my mother and my father. I miss my brothers and sisters.

I’m in South Florida where it rains all the time and yet I can’t bring myself to cry, but I do have an incipient headache nesting on my crown and my shoulders are weary and heavy.

I suppose if it rains I’ll have some sort of outward expression for all this internal turmoil.

The Criterion Channel is playing Don’t Look Back, the Bob Dylan documentary. I feel a little less alone, with him strumming on his guitar in inky black and white. But this homesickness feels like someone ripped a suture from my heart that I’d delicately stitched and now I’m all unraveled.