“Home – what a wonderful word.” – Anne of Green Gables
I stare at the back of the U-Haul trailer as my husband drives down Highway 190. Another tear slides down my cheek, despite my best efforts to choke down my emotions, and I try to nonchalantly wipe it away before he sees it. I can’t believe we have to move. I know Leland will be there with me, of course, but I cannot imagine having to live in Houston. A city. Blah. We brought our own furniture, lots of pictures, and other things to make us comfortable, but I am already convinced – it won’t be Home.
When I was 10 years old, my parents decided to move to a teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy rural town called Jasper, Texas. In my view, it was nothing but trees and bugs – boring, uneventful, and country-bumpkin. I hated it. Already then, I started planning – I couldn’t wait for the day I could move out!
By the time I graduated from high school, I was ready. I was going to college in The Big City to be a Metropolitan Girl at last.
Six months later, The Dream had died. I realized I wasn’t a City Person, but a Small Town Girl.
It wasn’t just the traffic, the constant noise, and ozone warning days, but the people were different, too. I felt lost in the crowds; an even tinier speck in the sands of Planet Earth than is necessary for a person to feel. I didn’t like that feeling. But, alas, the universe reinforced my identity by forcing me to remain in my urban life way past its expiration date. At the end of my five years of destitution, I was so happy to go Home to my teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy country town. I never wanted to leave again.
[clickToTweet tweet=”I felt lost in the crowds; an even tinier speck in the sands of Planet Earth than is necessary for a person to feel. I didn’t like that feeling.” quote=”I felt lost in the crowds; an even tinier speck in the sands of Planet Earth than is necessary for a person to feel. I didn’t like that feeling.” theme=”style1″]
Here I am. Leaving. Moving. I know it’s what I have to do for my double lung transplant – it’s a requirement. But, now that it’s happening, I feel like I’m being physically ripped apart.
I close my eyes and see our little house, every inch of it built by our family and carefully designed by myself and my husband, my Mom and friends.
I picture the lake nearby our town, sparkling in the summer, blue sky reflecting and making it look bluer than I know it really is.
I breathe in and can almost smell the pine trees that go on for miles in the National Forest.
I imagine all the faces of my friends, my truest of true family, precious people that have known me forever and understand my real self…
Will I ever see it again? Am I ever coming back?
I can’t think about that now. I have to steel myself for what’s ahead. Wipe those tears, girl. You have work to do.
[clickToTweet tweet=”Wipe those tears, girl. You have work to do.” quote=”Wipe those tears, girl. You have work to do.” theme=”style1″]
People have this cliche saying, “Home is where your heart is.” I think maybe the people who say this most often are the ones who have never had the threat of their Home being taken away. It alludes to the fact that wherever your family is, is where your Home is, no matter where you are at the time.
It has been my experience that is not true.
For me, Home is a combination of factors that come together to a rare ultimate perfection.
Home is my husband Leland.
Home is our tiny house in the back of my parent’s property, where we live in what we like to call (as a joke) The Ford Compound with my parents, my brother, and my grandmother.
Home is my in-laws being less than five minutes away, dropping off dinner and having coffee.
Home is my congregation, a group of incredible people who have known me since I was eight years old, and can tell when I say “I’m fine” – that I’m not.
Home is the lake, and the smell of pine trees, and love bugs that come every September.
Home is having a ton of tiny lizards on the deck and being ok with catching them because their bite doesn’t hurt.
Home is our new dog Copper, who we found as a stray, and is already a part of our hearts.
Home is all those things and more. Home is the box that carries the entirety of items in it. It’s all wrapped up together and if even a single thing went missing it wouldn’t be the same. It has to be for me.
Because when I was in that SUV, staring at the back of that U-Haul on my way to fight the hardest battle that I had fought up to that point in my life, I made a promise to myself. When I asked myself the question, Am I ever coming back? I answered, Yes.
Yes, I am coming Home.
And then I fought like crazy to get back here.
When it was too painful, I thought, I am going Home.
When it was too hard, I told myself, I’m going Home.
When I didn’t want to try anymore, I said quietly to myself…
I am going Home.
And you know what?
It was so worth it.
[clickToTweet tweet=”For me, Home is a combination of factors that come together to a rare ultimate perfection.” quote=”For me, Home is a combination of factors that come together to a rare ultimate perfection.” theme=”style1″]
(This post was originally posted in part on the blog That Noise is Mine authored by Kirsty Pickering in conjunction with a monthly guest debate series “TNIM Talks.” To see the original post, as well as read the other guest posts with the theme “What or Where Is Home?” please head to Kirsty’s blog here.)