How can I explain it?
You know those moments, when you're staying at a hotel and you wake up alarmed because you don't remember where you are? Ya, my life has been a blur of those moments.
- Like when we first moved to Mongolia and I was driving at night and I was so alarmed because there was a GIANT dog in the road (thinking like a Californian,) of course it was a cow.
- Or when, after living in Mongolia several years, we were in the airport hotel in Seoul and I heard the air conditioner click on (now a foreign sound to my ears) and I thought it was a herd of horses behind our house.
- Or when I get back to America after years in Asia, I hear the sound of water in the pipes or a bath tub draining and I panic that something is leaking because there were no pipes in our home there.
- Like when we stayed at Megan's house when we first got back in 2010- Sierra was crying in the middle of the night and I hurried to her. But the door was in a different spot and I smashed into the wall so hard, I laid myself out flat on the ground.
Last night that happened to me. We had finished watching TV on the couch and I was heading to bed. When I got up, I forgot where I was for a moment. That's when I could understand what was going on... I knew I was freaking out on the inside, although outwardly I seem just fine.
So anyway-
I finished hanging pictures in my living room. I did smile when I took out my weird painting that we've hauled around the world all these years. It's been rolled up in a tube. I hung it up with tacks in the living room. We bought it at a sidewalk sale in Saugus when we were first married, when we had two jobs and we jogged and we went to plays and we lived in a little 600 square foot apartment. Those were good times. All the times have been good, but that was a time of particular freedom. I saw this painting and totally fell in love with it's funky style, the colors, the gobs of paint, the story it told and I knew I'd love it forever, so we bought it and that was that. It's been in every home we've ever made together and I guess since it's up, I'm on the way to making a new home here.
9 comments:
I love that you are sharing what it feels like to transition. I think about that sometimes--what it would feel like to completely leave this life and start over somewhere. So I find your insights fascinating. Keep sharing!
When you were telling me about your feelings of not wanting to unpack the rest of your boxes, I never thought you were still transitioning back to America. But you still are because you have been in limbo for a year and a half. Maybe when next year rolls around you might have completed your transitioning. I know your life has been good but very difficult in many ways that none of us understand. I am happy that you have a place called home "for now". Love you sweetheart xoxo
Hoping it will start to feel like your real home soom! You are like a new iris bulb planted in Alta. Come next spring, I'll bet you will be all irridescent and beautiful and feel right at home!
i love peter's aunts comment. so true! I think it is okay that you are not perfectly settled yet. In fact, I'm thinking that is pretty normal. If you think about it, this is the first time in nearly two years that you are in your own home. The first time you have been allowed to take a deep breath. The first time you are creating a life and routine that will be the same tomorrow and the next day. It is okay that you are not hanging pictures. Give yourself some time to just be. Give yourself some space to process your feelings. You will find your footing. You will figure out where to hang those pictures. i love you so very very much. i miss you more than you know. ♥
Aunt Kerri, that was a beautiful analogy!
Becca, your post made me laugh, but I'm also so sorry that you are feeling discombobulated, and I'm happy that you found a happy memory that ties your many different "lives" together and that has been a constant. Sometimes it is helpful to have that tangible thing that says, it's ok, you're home, you're safe. I know you know this, but something that has also been a constant is how God has provided for your and your family's every NEED. It has never been easy, but His blessings and love and guidance are always there, and that security is something to hold tight to in times like this, when nothing is familiar and you don't know what will ever make it better. I love you and miss you!
Thanks for all the encouragement. It's true that I'll be a blooming iris by next spring- :) Great analogy Kerri, I like that. I guess the flip side means it's ok that I'm being planted in a dark hole of uncertainty now because being a blooming, shiny iris is worth it! :)
It is also very very true that God has completely and totally provided for every need exceedingly, abundantly above everything I could think or imagine. So that is a constant. Thanks for that! :)
Dad says "to put big holes in the walls to hang your pictures, and you will know, this is your home!"
I love that painting. And I remember the freedom, too. I miss you my dear beautiful Becca!!
I was thinking about when we hung our pictures when this house was new. We moved into the house a few days before valentines Day. I remember everything feeling so strange--it was hard to develop daily routines like brushing my teeth and where did I want to put everything like brush and Q-tips and manicure set?
And we were hanging the pictures on Mother's Day before all our company came over for Mom's barbecued chicken that she always loved.
So I guess what I am saying is that it may take a while before you know where to put everything--and that's okay--because it is definitely a process for a house to become a home.
It is going to be fabulous because you and Peter and Weston and Sierra live there--and you're all FABULOUS!
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