Breadcrumbs have popped up here and there since I started this journey, yet they are too few and far between for me to feel like I’m really getting anywhere new. I feel so horribly lost, still, somewhere between the path my daughterly duty had me stuck on for years, and the one I’m supposed to be on. And in the search, something occurred to me tonight. The final breadcrumb I find that will be sitting in the middle of my path will be called one thing: Home.
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I absolutely hated the house I grew up in. I hated it as a child, ran from it as an 18 year old, and only went back to take care of my mom. And after her passing, having the chore of cleaning it out and getting it ready for sale was one of the worst experiences of my life. And doing it completely alone just reinforced how much I absolutely hate that piece of real estate. It holds no sentimental value to me. It meant nothing to me to sell it. I moved, and never looked back.
How strange to spend most of your life in one place and somehow not feel like you belong there. And yet, that’s how I’ve always felt about this house.
And then this holiday season began and it hit me completely out of left field that this will be the first Christmas in my entire life that I won’t be in that house. It’s not my first Christmas alone, that was last year. But it wasn’t so much of a big deal, because there was something ‘normal’ in being in that place on Christmas day. Cooking Christmas dinner in that kitchen. Watching TV in that living room. Hating it, yet comfortable in it. However, this year, I can’t go there. And it’s not like I want to go there. I have no desire to go there. But the finality of it brought up a ton of emotions this past week. I blame the yoga (see previous post here for explanation). Any way, as the tears stop falling, and the sobbing subsides, the end of my journey revealed itself to me.
I will finally be ok when I find my home.
I have no idea where that is. It’s not the Tri-Cities. It’s not Seattle, although Seattle will do for now. It might be Venice, as I felt more at home there than anywhere else I’ve ever been in my life. Cannon Beach holds a close second. But neither of them gave me that sense of belonging to a place.
I want to find my place so badly. I want to have that place that, when I walk inside, I feel peace. My home. My sanctuary. The place that, no matter how hard it gets out there in the world, I can go home, close the door, light some candles and breathe. And up to now, every place I’ve lived in has been rented, so never felt like mine.
Does that mean it’s time to buy? Perhaps. But I won’t until I am sure I want to set roots down. All this haze still surrounds me, but I do see the light through it…I am ready for a home. Not an apartment, not a rented condo, not a rental house…a home. My home. In my place.
No idea where that is. No idea when it will happen. But I trust that when I find it is when this journey, this journey of finding my way the life I’m supposed to have will be over and I can start the next one, whatever it may be.
Can’t wait to find that last breadcrumb. Hoping it arrives sooner rather than later, cuz God knows I’m not getting any younger.
Ciao for now,