going home, finding home, needing a friggin’ home

They say that you can’t go home again.  And yes, that is – at least in my case – very true. Before we moved overseas we sold our house (and our three cars, and two of our five couches. No, there is no good explanation for owning that many couches). We sold the house for a myriad of reasons, and all of those were and remain logical and perfectly reasonable.

Still, now that I am back in the US, I do find myself missing that house. It is the place where P and I first lived; it is where we first spent time together after so many years of not hanging out; it is where we set up our first x-mas tree (and launched it over the balcony after the holiday season had passed); and it is where P proposed to me, and it is where I said yes.

Oh yeah, full disclosure: it was not my house. Partner bought it and I moved in when I decided that I would take him up on his crazy ultimatum, move across the country, and truly see if a relationship could work between us. Thankfully that seems to have worked out mighty fine. But in truth, I did end up with the house through marriage.

Since returning to the US, I have been house hunting.  In fact, since returning I have spent ever weekend and the occasional Thursday house hunting.  There have been some gems out there.  There have also been some houses on the market in which I was scared to take a breath let alone open a closet to check for storage capacity for fear that some rotting carcass of something might fall out.  People, I know that the housing market is heating up again, but you can’t just toss your place on the market and hope you are going to get a good turn around on your “investment” if there is a dead cat in the litter box in the basement.

Note: not at all the house with the dead cat in the litter box in the basement. Not remotely that house.

Most places have not been that bad, but yes, more than a few have been.  And the more that I tour houses as I work on charting  this course forward, I have to do everything not to look back.  I have to think about the future and not get caught up in the images of our old home.  It was not perfect.  I need to remind myself of that.  It is in the past.  But there are moments when I really really do miss it.


About OneGoneTwo

bioethicist, cultural studies, literature, and visual cultural scholar, writer, and lover of design
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