543 Day Writing Journey

It’ll Pass. Day 424.

“Look at this cool photo I found of Wolcott,” I told Baylee. It’s of our front porch, patriotic blue church bench with burlap pillows cornered just right, and herbs hanging to dry.

I can smell the wood of the very old porch and the mint that is drying for tea. I can also feel the warm sun coming through the glass and if I close my eyes long enough my arm’s goosebumps will welcome its rays.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” he said.

“It reminds me of home,” I told him. I followed with a quick “oops.”

“What?” he said, not noticing my Freudian slip.

“I didn’t mean to call it home,” I said. “Where’s home to you?”

“I think home is where you start your own family and have kids,” he said. Baylee has a sweet affection for Wolcott and the property it rests on.

“Then I still don’t know where my home is,” I said. “Can you have two homes?”

I remember craving North Carolina when I lived in Mass, and suffering from debilitating bouts of nostalgia for the ocean waves and the warm air. I feel that now for Mass, and especially for that house.

Maybe it’s a military thing, or maybe I’m generally indecisive, but I just don’t know what home means. Like, if I’m in a different state altogether, like California, say, what would I consider back home?

Here, in this house in NC, I am home. The comfort I feel here is deep and warm, and I feel completely invested in making this a true homestead, one with bees and crops and one that is sustainable enough to keep us supplied and fulfilled.

I’ve talked about this before and I know I will again. I feed the emotions, too, when they come, because I don’t want to let go of either one.

Am I forever displaced, or am I so fortunate to call two places home? If I decide on one of those two options, will I stop feeling confused? No. It’s not that easy. So for now, and maybe forever, I consider myself from two very special places, and that’s just the way it is.

3 thoughts on “It’ll Pass. Day 424.”

  1. Home–yes, where is that? MA is where I was born and spent half my life. The second half–I’ve lived so many places, there is no one place I call home or long for. I feel that home is where you are or make it, for some of us wandering spirits. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Teri,
    Don’t feel badly for having close attachments to two different places where you live, and have lived before…
    I still have dreams of sleeping beneath the old cellar stairs of our apartment in Easthampton, (don’t know where this one came from?), or sitting upon our couch in the living room there up on the second floor?!? I have no idea why I can recall High Street, but not our earlier apartments in Southampton???
    Whenever “strange stuff” like this appear in my dreams, I equate it to my being an old man now, and that is my excuse!!!
    Embrace your past and present memories, and feelings for both Southampton, and NC!!!
    Uncle Lee 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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