Names for things

I was listening to poems on From the Fishouse yesterday. There was a line from a Barbara Jane Reyes poem that keeps skittering through my head: "In my native tongue, breath is word is spirit. I can think of no single, adequate translation."

I don't know multiple languages--at least not well enough to be aware of the disconnects inherent in translation--but I have been thinking about the shortcomings of language. Today, I'm thinking about the word homesick.

All yesterday morning, I watched black clouds creeping south across the Chicago skyline. At noon, the sky opened up and for a couple of minutes, the air seemed to turn to water. The afternoon was hot, muggy, stiff. But last night the sky opened up again. The gates of all the fences flapped open, the dumpsters danced in the alleys, screens literally blew out of my windows, and I sat, rather stupidly, I admit, right in front of my patio and watched it all. And remembered the first night I spent here in this apartment. Remembered the weeks that followed, and how it hurt to be here.

Then, homesickness was physical--I was sick for weeks with this dry, hacking cough that finally made me decided to quit smoking (and okay, maybe I was just sick, too, but I think I would have gotten better quicker if I hadn't been homesick), exhausted, weak. But the mental/emotional side was hell, too. Being constantly nervous and uncomfortable because nothing was familiar, aching to see my family and friends (and okay, trying to make a long distance relationship work and ultimately not doing so didn't help either). During those first six weeks, the six weeks when I decided I had to immerse myself in my new life if I was ever going to adapt, I thought the homesickness might just kill me.

Here's where the problem with language/naming comes in: today, I'm homesick. But it's nothing like what I just described. It's a restlessness. I want to get in the car and drive. I want to put this stuffy little apartment behind me. But god, how I miss my parents and my sisters. I was talking to my mom about the upcoming visit and she said she would be so happy when Carla and I both got home because then she would feel whole again. And yes, that's how I'll feel, too, when I'm sitting at the kitchen table and the people who make me who I am are there with me. I'll feel whole.

So, today I'm homesick, but not homesick like I was here, and so, to bring it back to where I started--shouldn't there be words distinguishing the degrees of things--you know, besides "very" and "really" and all the other words we teach our freshmen to avoid?

Anyway, a week from now, I'll be hanging out in scenic Chatham, Ohio, and everything will be right in the world.