“I want to go home.”
It’s a phrase I’ve uttered a thousand times over the last several years. Normally said through tears when it felt like the world was crashing down. I remember the first time I uttered the phrase. It was six long years ago and I was reeling from the loss of a baby we had just chosen a name for – a baby whose heart beat I had heard for the first time just two days before. First said in a whisper and then a growl that came lose from somewhere deep inside my soul. I don’t know where it came from, but it came. We lived about an hour from everyone we knew and we hadn’t lived there long. In fact, we hadn’t lived with each other long. This was all new.
By ‘home’, I wasn’t sure what I meant. I didn’t physically want to go home. I enjoyed the new freedom. I enjoyed being an adult at barely nineteen. Until we lost our baby. Until it felt like there was no escape from what was real. Our whirlwind romance and care free attitudes hit a road block. And ‘home’ meant I wanted to crawl back into the cocoon I had imagined for those blessed seven months where we only knew each other. Those months where our eyes locked and we just knew that we had been destined for one another all along. The trials we went through to get to where we were meant nothing. We’d have easily sacrificed our whole worlds just to be together. And in a sense we did.
The story of us is a long one, one I don’t have time to cover tonight as my mind rambles and all I can think is that I want to go home. Thinking this as I sit in the house we call a home with everyone sleeping except me. Over six years later and we do have our family. We were told we might never have babies after losing four and experiencing a period of infertility. We have two. And they’re only nineteen months apart in age. Both healthy, happy, bright-eyed little boys. True miracles that I watch grow and blossom every day.
“I want to go home.” Perhaps each time I uttered those words so long ago I was speaking of my children. They do feel like my home. If I breath and look into their little blue eyes, I feel peace. I feel grounded. I feel as though…I’m home.
Perhaps I have found my mental home, but we are not content in our physical home. I’m not unhappy with its size. Since having children, material possessions don’t mean much to me. We still live an hour away from everyone we know. Since having our boys, I left my job to care for them. It’s the most rewarding job I could have, but it is wholly and truly the loneliest job imaginable. We don’t know anyone here and attempts we’ve made to change that haven’t been successful. We just aren’t happy and we want to go home.
When you’re younger, you seem to be ingrained with the idea that your hometown is an awful horrible place full of despair that you must escape. There are countless books and movies about escaping and never looking back. Ah teen angst. What a wonderful thing to never have to experience that again. Your children change you and you realize home wasn’t such a bad place. While it’s nice to be secluded as a young couple, it’s nicer still for extended family and friends to re-enter the picture when your children arrive. Your children also make you more responsible. And this responsibility is what has us so torn right now.
We have every intention of moving our family back ‘home’ before our children start school. My oldest son lights up when he gets to spend the day with our families. He laughs, he smiles, he even talks more which is a big thing since he doesn’t talk so much at home. His heart is much like ours I believe, he knows home isn’t necessarily where you live.
If we were still care free and didn’t have to worry about grown up things like finances and mortgages, we’d move our family today. But, we know that we have to plan. We know moving means selling our house which isn’t so easy to do now. The real estate market still isn’t so great where we live and our house is quite possibly worth less than what we owe. We know moving has its own expenses that we need to save for. And we know we’d have to buy a new home. Of course, my husband has a home picked out since he scours the internet daily for real estate in our hometown. But things aren’t magical and they don’t happen just because we want them to.
So we wait. Sometimes our hearts feel like they are breaking as we miss the love, companionship, and joy that surround us when we go home.
We want to go home.