By: Danny Thomas
In my last blog I explored the tired expression, “it takes a village to raise a child…” This month a different platitude has permeated my consciousness. “Home is where the heart is” – especially potent because we are moving… again…
As I spent last Sunday morning sweeping, scrubbing, and clearing out a porch, I was pondering, what is it that makes a home? While my mother-in-law and wife scrubbed and painted inside, I swept sixteen layers of dust off the porch and the reality of once again uprooting and replanting ourselves began to hit.
All. the. stuff.
Moving is hard, sure, but this time, compared to last year, should be a breeze, in so many ways; we are only moving across town, not 1200 miles, we have about a month to spend doing it, we know where we are going…
But it’s never easy is it?
I fantasize about being the kind of person who can carry everything they need or want on their back, or of having a clean, clutter-free house, ergonomically outfitted and streamlined. Not like a motel room, obviously. It would be cozy and comfortable, but there would not be a size six pair of underwear on every flat surface, I would not trip over a pair of shoes around every corner (admittedly, usually my own). The stacks of paperwork would not grow exponentially in corners of basement closets.
But that’s not who I am, that’s not my family. And it’s really okay, it’s more than okay, it’s home.
I am worried about the new house, it’s old, it’s shaped weird. There are parts of it that will never be clean… I don’t know how we are going to fit ourselves into the awkward spaces, and make it feel right.
But something amazing has happened in this process, this time. While expressing my worries to friends and family I have gotten, repeatedly, an astounding compliment, “Oh, you guys always make your place feel like home, it doesn’t matter where you are, you guys always create such a comfortable atmosphere.” (that’s paraphrasing a few people). Well, I couldn’t be prouder.
Now if I could just master the nose twitch like Samantha and zap everything over to the new house in an instant, we could skip all the hard labor and life would be perfect.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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