Right now I’m sitting in my bed in my hotel watching Parenthood and Revenge on Hulu and wishing Hewitt was curled up beside me to keep me warm. Does anyone remember that moment when – all of sudden – you knew that you officially called somewhere else home, besides where you grew up with your parents? Throughout college I called my parents’ houses “home,” and they were my home. They were my sanctuary, my safe place, the place I could release all my college worries and stresses and just be the me I had been my entire life. Really it still is, when I’m around my family I slip into my old roles. Sure, I’ve changed some over the past few years, but when I’m around my family it almost seems like I’m still that same girl I was at 6 or at 13 or even 16. I slip into my old rhythms, but really this post isn’t about that feeling. This post is about that moment when you realize that your childhood home is no longer home. It is no longer the place where you seek refuge or where you can be the most true you.
I realized that last Christmas. It had been a hectic Christmas trying to go here, there and everywhere, but mainly just the normal holiday stuff that everyone does. All I could think about during this time was getting back “home” and winding down in front of the fire. In a moment it hit me: home wasn’t the place I had always thought it was, but instead I had a new home in Birmingham, with my husband. It isn’t that where my parents live isn’t my home, but it no longer is quite the same place it used to be for me. They are places that house pieces of me and memories that I will always hold dear, and of course my family holds pieces of my heart. Family will always be a safety net for me, but Jamey is my new home. When we got married I think the fact that Jamey was my home became head knowledge. It wasn’t until we got into our routine and really lived everyday life together, really relied on each other, and then spent sometime away from my old home, that it became clear to me how much he was truly my home and my safety and my refuge. I find comfort in that, you know since I’m supposed to spend my whole life with him and all…. But honestly I’m not sure I ever consciously thought through the fact that one day I would have a new home in my heart and that something else would feel comfortable and safe. I’m glad that it happened though and I’m glad it overcame me when I least expected it, because I had to really stop and think about it, and I could step back an enjoy it.
Somehow this post became sappy when I didn’t mean for it to, but did anyone else have that moment of realization? Even apart from marriage, just living somewhere and becoming aware of how much that place became the place your heart resided and it became home for you?