I would like to nap this week. Not sometime this week. All week. Thank you.
We spent the weekend visiting various members of George's family. Although much of his family is where dysfunction lives and mostly bewilders us, other members of said family are good people, and we love them. Like, shout out to Anne and Steve and family, for example. You guys rock.
Most of the visit was just exhausting. And it makes me want my mommy. It makes me want to go home (like, childhood home). And unfortunately, that won't ever happen again.
Mom and Dad spent the weekend moving. It was going to happen sooner or later, as it pretty much happens to everyone, but that doesn't make it sting less. I've grown up hearing that home is where your loved ones are, the walls don't matter--the people matter, memories are built everywhere, etc. But I think I disagree. The walls do matter. Because the new home, as much as I believe it will shape up into a really great house, will never be the place I dropped my backpack after school. It will never be the place I rode the coolest bike ever and lost it to a bike thief. It will never be where I studied geometry, where I packed for summer camp, where I sat at the kitchen table post-college with my dear friend kicking our feet up with a glass of wine, or where I put on my veil and opened my wedding presents. Those walls came alive over the last 20 years, and they were a member of my family. In fact, after I was married, when I came to visit, I visited that house every bit as much as I visited my parents and my brother and sister-in-law. The walls, the carpet, the way the cabinets opened, all was a comforting embrace. The space was peace all by itself.
Of course, I do have faith that the new place will have its own personality and I will come to enjoy it. I think it will really suit the needs of Mom and Dad and our ever-evolving family. I also don't underestimate the fact that I relish the time with my family, no matter where it takes place. And that interaction in itself brings peace as well. But right now, I feel like my dog died.
So, if you could just point me in the general direction of my bed...
Oh my. First, major kudos on $50 for the week's groceries. I don't think I could pull it off without, at least, a small riot, if at all.
ReplyDeleteSecond, I know what you mean. My parents keep talking about moving in a couple years and I keep thinking "nononononononono!" I know what you mean about the cupboards and the carpet and the driveway and the grass and even though some things aren't there any more (like the big cool tree in our front yard) the memories of those things are still there.
Have you heard Miranda Lambert's song, "The House that Built Me?" yeah. She knows too.
Plus, I know we have kids and houses and all the accoutrements of a grown-up life. But as long as I feel like I still have that house to go back to, I can still, sometimes, feel like a kid. It's where I want to go when I don't want to go anywhere.
Now I'm teary and throat-lumpy. :-P
Love you.
I was wondering if your parents had moved. I'm excited to see their new place, but I share your sadness. Remember making perfume out of your mom's herbs and flowers? Remember putting the sprinkler on in the side yard and running through it then laying on towels to get tan...then going back inside because the neighbor boy was staring at us? Remember making dresses out of craft paper and holding a fashion show? Remember being trapped in your bed after foot surgery? Remember giggling, laughing and serious talk the night before your wedding?
ReplyDeleteDamn it. Why'd your parents have to move? Next time we're both in Ohio let's go to their new house and do all of the things mentioned above.
Kelly