Bring you home

Good evening Travellers,

It’s the tail end of Saturday, which has not been particularly eventful for me, and now it’s about to be over. I’m not very good at doing nothing on any given day, do you know I mean? I take off time to relax and well, relax and instead I find my thoughts drift to berating myself for not doing more. I can’t really say I did much today, outside of our morning walk, my work out, weekend house cleaning, grocery shopping and now I’m here writing. I think I feel like I should be making giant leaps in a daily bound. I think my recent return to singledom makes me feel like I shouldn’t stand still for too long or I may get stuck…I should be making progress in some forward direction.

I’ve been holding the idea for this post in my head all day long…it goes a little something like this

HOME, where is your home? Do you have a little place in the world that you call home? Maybe it’s not fancy, maybe it is. Maybe it’s featured in Architectural Digest, maybe it’s a walk in studio that doesn’t have walls for your bathroom. Maybe it’s a bunk or a tent or a mansion. Maybe there are other humans sharing your space, maybe not. Maybe there are furry creatures around every corner waiting to greet you. Maybe it’s just a fish in a bowl. No matter your income level, your race, your God, your gender, your age, if you are human, I think we all seek home.

My home is not particularly fancy. I’m firmly rooted in the middle class, in a working neighborhood, in the middle of the United States. My house is older, because I like them that way. My neighbor’s house matches mine but in reverse, we are like book ends. Two of kind up a little hill. Cutest houses on the block. The walls are plaster, there are arched doorways, the floors are original hardwood and the basement is stone. The registers for the air conditioning have character and my fireplace is home to a happy stone Buddha. There are many things that are old, like the roof, the siding and the windows that will need replacing sooner than I would like. Possibly the A/C and furnace too. But it’s my home.

My very favorite thing about this house is the way the light comes in every morning. The way the front room illuminates with the sun’s warmth. The way every window is a large portal that light flows through. The house feels radiantly alive. I even open the front door every morning to let the sun in…


Cats love sunlight by the way, and the heat. The black smudge behind Charlie’s head is Faline. She sits at glass front door every morning ogling the outer world. I’m not sure either of them saw sunlight before coming here, which is hard to imagine. Not only were they homeless, but kept in a place without the sun. And Ramona, she’s a big fan as well…


This is actually the only place I’ve ever lived that feels like a home which is why I was determined to stay here after my divorce. It always felt like mine and I have nowhere else to go. That sounds sort of sad but it’s true. I’m a grown adult, but I completely understand why people flee to family after a divorce. Because solidarity in these circumstance is hard at times. Applying to own this house on my own was a feat of strength for me and in the midst of everything else I had forgotten to stop and be proud or glad for it.

I lived in a house in New Mexico as a child that I called home prior to my parents divorce, but in the space between here and there, I never felt settled in. That’s a long time to drift- thru my mom’s divorces, my grandparents house, a dorm room and various apartments in different cities thru college and my 20s. My soul always felt untethered to any one place, no matter how much I loved the city, I never had my own little hole to call home.

Some people say that home isn’t a physical space, that you have to learn to be at home inside yourself. Being at home in the me. No matter where you go then, you are always home. Or home is other people who you care about in your life. Being with them is home. My dogs and cats are my home then.

But what if you are still trying to work out who you are or how you feel about that person, what if you staging an inner revolution, it makes being at home in yourself feel impossible at times. If it weren’t for this place, this physical space that I have to care for, I fear I would drift. I would run away to somewhere I could start over. A sort of mid-life tabula rasa. But then I’ll come here from wherever I’ve been and I feel settled. Ramona will smile at me like she is now, and I settle in.

I’m not sure how long this will be my physical home. I said two years when this all began 2 1/2 months ago. Two years this would be my cocoon. I could stay here and embrace a metamorphosis of sorts. Somewhere I know I’m safe and it’s familiar feel is comforting as everything is changing around me, inside me. When I get scared, which I do, or sad, which I’ve been, I take some small comfort in being here. It’s hard to imagine not being here, and finding a home somewhere else, but for right now I don’t have to worry about that. Right now I have a date with a cat to sit outside under the stars. You’ll have to excuse us…




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