I’m home

Last week I bragged that y’all would hate me for my new digs.

Probably some of you do.

This move resulted in making my life so much easier. I mean, unless you lived where I did, you probably wouldn’t get it.

So let me help you:

I went from scraping every ounce of leftover food into the trash can to dumping it down the garbage disposal. Without a single thought about how it would smell the next day.

I went from hand washing dishes to a dishwasher.

I went from lugging clothes to the campus laundry mat to having a washer/dryer in my apartment.

I went from having zero help to having my in-laws live down the street.

Huh?

How do you make such an adjustment? Sounds easy, right? It is.

But then it isn’t.

My mom-in-law asked me the other day, “So does it feel like home yet?”

“No,” I replied.

“It’s too nice.” I added.

How can home be easy and nice? How can “home” come with so many perks?

Home is work.

Home is hardship.

This?

This feels like vacation.

But life, with it’s hardships, is starting to settle in.

We got sick. Well, the kids and I got sick. Matt was somehow spared. We spent the weekend curled up in collective fetal-position sipping Gatorade and munching on Saltines.

We {read: Me} started to get lonely and miss old friends. I’ve been here two weeks and have yet to meet a neighbor.

Ouch.

After living on campus, I feel an ache knowing relationships are possible all around. I miss my peeps. I miss the community that I had. Will I ever recover from the bliss of knowing such kinship?

I don’t know.

Here I sit. With a dishwasher, a garbage disposal, and a laundry room–babysitting down the street–but I miss my friends and my hardships.

Listen up: if you are going through hell right now–pay attention to your surroundings. They matter. They are beautiful. They will haunt you forever.

In a sense, I feel as if the bulk of my life was spent in Davis, CA. I learned so very much. I suffered. I endured. And THAT is what made it my home.

Yes, it was a dump.

It was difficult. But it was so beautiful. I miss it today. I miss my friends.

Am I home yet?

Not quite yet. I need friends. I need hardship. I need scuffs on the walls. We need to live, like really “live” in this place.

That means laughter, tears, talking, and crying.

When do you know that you’re home?