(or Caterpillars & Cucumbers, Confusion & Clarity)
I’ve got the idea of home on the brain again. It’s probably not surprising, given the time of year. Well-meaning friends and neighbors casually ask “are you going home for the holidays?” to which I can only reply “no, we are staying right here.” But it is actually fitting because, for all intents and purposes, this is home now. It’s the place I’ve lived the longest. It’s the only home my boys have ever known. Yet this idea of “home” seems to elude me, and gnaw at me, a kind of still unresolved story line.
My wife and I often play the “where should we move to” game? I actually get unnerved when we do this because we just seem to talk in circles, feeling more unsettled each time we take up the discussion. “If you don’t like where you are, just picture where you want to be” extols August “Auggie” Pullman in the movie version of Wonder. It sounds easy enough, but this particular vision seems impossible to see. Earlier this year we flirted with packing it all up and moving somewhere else, a kind of “anywhere but here” mission. But in the end, the stars just didn’t align. Job offers never materialized. Negotiations stalled. Dreams and desires and hopes collided. It was as if the universe was clearly sending us a message. We are meant to stay put, right here. For now at least.