It has been so good to be home but it will be good to get home.
Today it’s everything.
I am sitting in one of my very favorite eateries in Albuquerque feeling that ache in the pit of my stomach that happens any time the leaving of this city and state is imminent.
And yet…I smile at the thought of walking into my own home, to my own cats, my books, pajamas, teacups, and laying my head down tonight in my own bed.
Home and somehow also Home.
What does it mean to belong to more than once place? What does it mean to have a rush of tears through my smile as the wheels touched down last Thursday at the Sunport? What does it mean that the site of the Seattle skyline as the Uber climbs the peak that gives its first glimpse driving northbound on I-5 from SeaTac will make me beam and say in my head “What’s up Seattle?” like I always do? What does it mean to long for the fresh, gleaming snowfall that is sure to come soon to the streets of Denver? What does it mean to feel warmth in my belly whenever I look over the golden hills and rolling vinyards of the San Joaquin Valley?
It’s the same feeling I feel when I think of my friends. The fact that I have this “best” friend and that “best” friend. My friends are THE BEST…and each of them is so precious to me. It’s Rachel’s laugh. It’s Jelisa’s quiet and constant presense. It’s Linda’s tears and saying the essential things. It’s Emily and Julie and all the questions. It’s “Church” with Nicole over Bloody Mary’s. It’s taste tests in Marilyn’s kitchen. It’s snark and church talk (sometimes at the same time) with Kat. The list is too long and can’t be given justice. It’s SO many more BEST friends and means so much more than that.
It is the same feeling I have of being the daughter of my parents…and my sister…and my favorite coach from college…and my best boss and mentor…and my aunties. That “beloved daughter” feeling.
It’s the same feeling I hold for all of my many nieces and nephews. The ten who are mine by birth. The three of those that I have been integral to their raising and growing. The little girls and baby boys in cities all over that I have giggled with, held, and bought trinkets for…and more importantly have loved. My New Mexico niece…my Portland nephew and niece…my Navigator…my Colorado girls…my sweet Seattle babies…and all the others.
It’s the feeling I get when I think of all the sweet young women I’ve mentored over the years. The girls who have become women who don’t need my advice or listening ear as often but who are part of my heart and for whom I hold a special place in theirs. Each special. Each remarkable. Each lovely.
This is the feeling that having two homes brings forth in me. Seattle. Albuquerque. Albuquerque. Seattle. Each one special. So different. Delight and heartache.
Home isn’t a destination. It isn’t brick and mortar and construction nails. Home is a feeling. Home says “Welcome” and the door swings open and then closes gently behind you to secure your heart. My friends are home. My family is home. My pets are home. The skies of both Seattle and Albuquerque…in all their vast different ways…are home. The sun and the rain…home. The tears and the laughter…home.
I am so grateful I got to be home but now I must go home.
Truth. Simple and complex. Truth