The Poet's Daughter: 🌿 "Leaving Is Something I Know"
I Am Always On The Move - Long Out Of Sight
Welcome
Hello! I’m Emily Lupita. I’m a travel writer & artist from rural Iowa currently living between my hometown south of Des Moines - and Ankara, the capital of Turkiye. I’m also an English teacher & editor.
The Poet’s Daughter is a nonfiction project (in progress) on - Emily Lupita Explores - acreativity journal where I share explorations from my art desk & cultural travels, as well as motherhood with my two Autistic sons. You can read more about my father and his bardic poetry + creative work on - American Bardic Poet.
"Leaving Is Something I Know"
Emily Lupita
The Poet’s Daughter
Work In Progress 2024
Leaving Is Something I Know
“You’re leaving again,” my father said as we walked along the line of trees across from his cabin in rural Monroe County. “Why?”
His question took me by surprise because I hadn’t considered that he didn’t understand why I was headed off to Spain for the summer. “It’s a great opportunity to get more experience working with study abroad programs while I’m in grad school,” I answered, to which Dad shook his head.
“No, that’s not it. Not really. Why can’t you stay home for a while?”
“Because it’s Spain - full of beauty and history and amazing food.”
“Yes. But why is your spirit always on the move?” Dad stopped and looked up to the sky, pointed out a low cloud formation making its way in from the west. “It’s going to rain.”
Twenty years later, my spirit is still on the move. I tried several times to come home, to stay put, but I just kept on leaving. As I reflect on that moment watching the Iowa storm come in with my father the night before leaving for Spain, I understand now that I leave because leaving is something I know.
I know it in my bones.
The day my father left us was hot, a real scorcher. It was a summer of drought. There was excessive damage. The corn wilted up and turned a ravaged brown. Mom had been weeping in the charred garden. She wept in a way that made her whole body shake. Watching her made me feel empty, like my spirit had been sucked out by the wind. Her tears formed thin holes in the dirt.
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