Home Travels to You

“You can’t go home again.” I remember when I left for college, I wrote an essay arguing against that concept. The idea that home, your place of origin, would always be a sacred place that grounded me and offered explanations to my quirky existence. But in the last week, I have found I’m terribly homesick. I’m in the home I was born in. I’m surrounded by people who have known me longer than anyone in any other chapter of my life. But, I’ve been homesick.

I cried over text to a friend that I miss my home. I miss my friends, my bed, my comforter, my clothes, my routine, my commute to work in traffic, my kitchen with my food, and I ended by crying out, I even miss my soda stream! It’s obviously got nothing to do with a desperate cry for my soda stream (although I do love it). It’s got everything to do with missing my home. Essentially, every single purchase and decision I’ve made in the last decade as carved out this little niche in my life that I call my home. I love my candy apple red bathroom, and my navy blue living room walls. The art work that speaks to me. The sense of breathing space and joy that my little corner of the world brings me. And though modest by most standards, it oozes the essence of Bonnie. And I love it. And I miss it.

And just when I thought I was going to break down and cry over… well, whatever the things are that girls cry over, my soda stream perhaps…. My best friend arrived today. She is of my old life here, and of my current life in Durham too. She’s the bridge that has stuck by me even longer than my loyal lab Luke. We sat down and talked about possibly taking a girl’s vacation next spring… (Jamaica anyone?) We gripped about the men in our lives, and professed that they are still wonderful people regardless of it all. We had some normal, and some sense of home, even when I’m miles away from the physical home I so love.

So I guess you really can’t go home again, but sometimes it travels to you.

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2 thoughts on “Home Travels to You

  1. Bonnie – It really shows that you’ve grown up and you know it. It happens to all of us that the “old home place” ain’t really home any more. Home is where live, breathe, love, and more in the present. The persistence of memory is real, but we never become juvenile again. During the past months, the child has become the parent, and, for you, the current trial a font of strength and maturity for yourself and others.

    • Thanks Ted. I know that right now I am doing the best thing I will ever do with my life by honoring my dad and caring for him. I’m a little better this week, but last week I just missed home so much. Wouldn’t trade my time here for anything though. Home will be there whenever I need it. Hope you’re good! Say ‘hi’ to Irene too!

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