There's no place like Home..
There's no place like Home ..
But , what is Home?
We own our home. We found it, renovated, furnished and live in it all the time.
We make plans for it, enjoy it and think of it as our little refuge sometimes in a big noisy city.
But then when we talk about our kids or where we used to live, we refer to that as Home.
We do not own a home there anymore. We lived in a couple of states before coming here, which one is Home ?
I mostly think it is the one where my husband grew up and lived when I met him.
Where I lived for over 30 years.
But then, if we talk about that Other place as being Home, how can this place ever really be Home?
Lately I have started thinking along the lines of paint colors and fabrics and flea markets and antiquing.
This will lead to changing rooms and making my nest more pleasurable .. Why? because, this is Home.
If we are in the park and Pup is all played out and tired of sniffing everything, I say.. Want to go home? and he gets all perked up and prepares to leave the park, headed back .... home.
I walk down the street and the Porters are standing outside their buildings and talking to each other, they see us coming and they smile, nod, say hello.
I am not just some stranger walking down some street, this is my street, this is where my home is.
But then I will sit , late at night and read the New York Times online, from "front to back" and linger in the real estate sections ... which leads me to looking at houses in areas where we used to dream of living.. if only we could.
I look at these houses with trees and rooms and garages and views and get all homesick and think of how easy it would be to have all of the family there for a visit and how easy it would be to visit them.
But then what ? what happens when everyone is in their own home and we are just the two of us, sorry Pup.. the three of us and we are wandering around some rambling big house out in the country and there is no concert to go to and it might snow and the kids have something else to do this weekend and can't come visit ?
But then I think of Here, how can I leave this apartment?
We made it look this good. We chose it and it belongs to us. Isn't this Home?
My first Spanish words ( after the usual "hello" , "check please" and "pollo pechuga") were Floor, Wall, Sink, Yellow, Sofa etc .. I was fluent in menu and home decor.
How can I leave that behind ?
I don't think I can , not now anyway.
I still have to speak better Spanish and I have to see a ballet at the Colon ( if only they will open soon) and I want the kids to visit here more and maybe.... just maybe... they will start thinking, hmmmm, wonder if we could live here ... wonder what it would be like to call this home ~