I spent the past couple months lost in holiday-induced time lapses. The last two weeks we went back to
But I did come back and turns out, this is home, too. We had such a great time, saw family and hugged friends, visited old haunts. The day we visited our old house, now empty of everything but memories, was hard. But when we took a walk along the familiar streets of the neighborhood, stopping at the nearby playground and around to the park where Anna’s bus stop was, the nostalgia became more bearable somehow. The kids grew cranky at the same old parts, started fussing and whining on that last three blocks uphill back to the house. Same old complaints, too: we’re HUNGRY, we’re so THIRSTY, our legs are so SORE.
Incited the same old parental irritation, too, you better believe.
As bittersweet as it all was, it also reminded me of what helped me when we first found out about the move. Our home isn’t a place, it’s a family. Kurt, the kids, me. We’re still the same wherever we are. They still whine about their terribly sore legs and unbearable thirst when we walk to the park here in the
There was too much food and we all reveled in it. The baby cried all night most nights and we all suffered it. 9 and 10 close family members crammed into one house for two weeks brought forth the expected amount of claustrophobia and reminiscences. I got to laugh and cry with my friends, drink too much (or just enough?) and suck down more candy and cookies than I’ve eaten in the previous 50 weeks entirely. I finished THREE whole books, sitting and reading in one place for more than a few minutes at a time.
In general, it was really great, if utterly exhausting. New Year’s Eve, my mom watched the kids while Kurt and I escaped to our favorite little restaurant (if you’re in the Springs, get yourself over to Carlos Bistro RIGHT NOW. Let him pick your wine. He is never wrong.).
“So, time to head back to
Before I even thought about it, the words just popped out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m so ready to go home.”
Home. A new home, a strange home, often a lonely home, but a home nonetheless. We pulled up into the driveway and I had a happy little jump in my chest as I walked into the living room. My couches looked welcoming, the kitchen begged for some attention. Jack’s nursery, where he would sleep straight through the night, eagerly called out. Our rooms, familiar possessions, my very own bed.
I miss my friends and family (and Carlos Bistro), but this trip gave me a gift I wasn’t expecting, too; a chance to see this new place in a new light.
All that said, that light is now shining on our messy kitchen. Many things have changed in the past year but one truth will forever hold: dishes and laundry have no beginning and no end. Fighting that is like running backwards on Escher’s stairs. It won’t get you anywhere. Might as well just stay where you are and make the most of it.
“My life will always have dirty dishes. If this sink can become a place of contemplation, let me learn constancy here.” Gunilla Norris