Like I'm all the way back where I come from

The summer before I entered my freshman year of undergrad my family moved from Orange County, NY to Massachusetts and I have been without a home ever since. This is not to say that there isn't a lovely house (inhabited by my family) I go to during breaks the holidays--because there is, and I love it (and them). I've lived in Maryland for nigh on six years now, long enough to know main roads, back roads, the cycle of the seasons, the calander of yearly festivals, etc. I've certainly been places since we moved. What's been missing is a sense of belonging--a feeling that there is a place where day to day life is not constantly filled with simple revelations, but acceptable and welcome foregone conclusions.
When I drive to my family's new house, I am always surprised by the feeling of relaxation that floods my body when I cross the Hudson--it knows it's home. Everytime I cross the riverI remember all of the events that happened on its shores: weekly flute lessons at West Point, multiple Fourth of July celebrations with close family friends , a Saturday on the water with parishioners, driving lessons, deaths, marriages and the people who were the cast of my childhood. I am struck by it's grandiose beauty and history. Such a beautiful river... such a wonderful home.
Dar Williams' The Hudson says all of this much more poetically than I could ever hope. I came upon it unexpectedly while listening to her latest album and was filled with that same feeling: coming home.

The river rolls
Collect the tolls
For the passage of our souls
Through silence, over woods, the flowers and snow
And past the George Washington bridge
Down the trails of Breakneck Ridge
The river’s ancient path was sacred and slow
And as it swings through Harlem
It’s every shade of blue
To the city of the New Brand-New
I thought I had no sense of place or past
Time was too slow
But then, too fast
The river takes us home at last
Where and when does a memory take hold?
Mountain range and the autumn cold
And I thought West Point was Camelot in the spring
If you're lucky you find something that reflects you
Helps you feel your life, protects you
Cradles you and connects you to everything
This whole life I remember
Has lied back into itself
Never turned me into someone else
And the Hudson
It holds the life
We thought we did it on our own