H is for Home.
Right now, I kind of have 2. One is the new apartment- I already feel like I’ve lived there much longer than 10 days. The other is my parents’ house, where I lived for the past 2 years and of course before college.
I have yet to drive subconsciously the wrong direction on the freeway, which is always the clearest sign that one’s sense of home is muddled. The other is when you have conversations like the one I had with my mother today. It went something like this:
Mom: “So, we could meet halfway tomorrow if you want. Where would be a good place?”
Me: “Actually I’ll be close to home so I can just stop by or we can meet somewhere over by you.”
Mom: “Sorry, you’ll be where?”
Me: “I’m not going home after work, I’m driving south anyway, so I could just meet you at home... Er, I mean, well yeah, home but... Shit. Your residence. I’ll be near there.”
Time and the creation of memories in my new space will eventually lead to me having just one home. For now, aside from the ridiculously confusing conversations about my whereabouts, I’m fine feeling like home is best defined by two very different buildings, in very different places, with very different things on the dinner menu.
4 comments:
This made me smile. I sometimes refer to home as my mom's house in Arizona, where I've never even lived. And I haven't lived with either of my parents since pre-college. So just saying it might take at least 5 years... I'll keep you posted.
I definitely refer to 438 as home.... And Vernon St. and St. Paul and MN. It does become confusing. No idea what's going to happen when I move back to Colombia.
This is confusing, and it remains confusing for many years, in my experience.
I guess now that I've been "moved out" for 14 years, I kind of have it down. When/if my mom moves from my childhood home, I think it'll be easier to remember.
I get the stink eye from my mom whenever I refer to my apartment as home. I now call it The Place I Stay Occasionally When I'm Not HOME With You, Mom, Place.
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