Heading Home

 

Home is a nebulous sort of place, when you spend most of your life moving all over the countryside, from state to state, and town to town.  As a child, we made our first out of state move when I was five; from Quincy, Massachusetts to Ocean Springs, Mississippi.  We moved the next town over in 5th grade, and then promptly packed up and moved to Gales Ferry, Connecticut for a year and a half.  We went back to Mississippi, lived in several different towns/houses, and just about the time we thought we were “settled”, Dad’s job took him to Newport News, Virginia.  A few years there, and on to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. We didn’t stay long, or rather I didn’t stay long.  I ran back to VA to get married, and stop moving, LOL!

Three years, and three different apartments later, I packed my shit up, got divorced, and moved to my parent’s current job locale, Augusta, GA.  Another few years, an unfortunate move to Texas for 6 months, and then a trip back to Virginia to hopefully settle down.

Right.  I met, and married, someone who didn’t know the meaning of the word. Off we went to Florida, then Colorado, Nevada, and Montana.  We ended up in and ended our relationship in Alaska.  I actually liked it there, but the whole dark/light thing plays havoc with my bipolar disorder, so I bailed for more normal climes and ended up in Santa Fe.  I loved it there, too.
By this time, I hadn’t really seen my family more than once or twice in 12 years, so I decided to move back to Florida, where my parents were going to retire. Ha.  They have lived more places than me, I should have never believed they were actually going to settle down somewhere. They didn’t, ended up selling their house, and moved to Aiken, SC.
Which leads us to the whole theme–heading home.  They are finally retired (mostly), and decided to stay in their house in Aiken.  People often ask me where I am from, and I say all over, usually, or Mississippi, sometimes (we spend the most extended time there).  But in my heart, “home” is where my parents happen to be living.  I’m happy that it’s been in the same house for several years now, it makes me feel stable.
I’m finally feeling stable enough to call OUR house, “home”.  I occasionally get the “I want to move” feeling, but I just kick it out the door and snuggle into my corner of the couch.  I want to put roots down, somewhere, and not always be the new kid on the block.  So this is it.
In a few days I’ll be heading home to visit Mom for her birthday.  I’ll get to sleep in the same bed, and look through the giant photo albums from my childhood.  I’m going to borrow them this year, and have them scanned into my computer, I think.  It’s a huge project, there are literally thousands of pictures, but I need something to do besides blogging, LOL!
Home is where the heart is after all, and where could your heart be more than in the house of your parents.