Sitting In Limbo

 

Our house is on the market. It has been since early December.  And this state of limbo, of Open Houses, of packing up and storing possessions, of clearing out with cats and children and all traces of lived-in-ness has made me feel something deeply, something I already knew, but am starting to appreciate now more and more. Home is sweet home.

Growing up, I had many homes and no home at all. My parents split up when I was five and I shuttled back and forth in odd configurations of days, changing schools frequently, neighborhoods and friends. Keeping track of what clothes were where, did I have my school project or clean underpants or my Halloween costume for the school parade; those things were always on my mind and I managed them without the help of an adult. I was on my own.  My parents often lived in different neighborhoods meaning I took public transportation both to and from school and their homes, trains, buses—I was self-sufficient before my time. Both moved frequently and not until I was in high school and chose to live solely with my mother did my father finally buy a house near my mom’s. At that point, she had been stable somewhere for a few years. As an added bonus, these homes were near my sister’s school. My sister is five years younger so this arrangement helped her significantly. By this point, I was up and getting ready to be out, off to college, fed up frankly. At the time, choosing one parent had seemed a good thing. I guess it was. It did create a rift between me and my father which has since been closed, at least as much as it will ever be.

As a young adult, I lived in many places, always searching for some elusive feeling of what I thought home should feel like. I’d never really known. But I do now. I had adventures living in Italy and in several different cities there, then in Philadelphia again, and finally in my late 20s realizing I needed to find a place that might become home. Sometimes, you have to create it.

So, when it came time to go to graduate school, Seattle called to me. I ended up here and knew I was home, even in that state of limbo one is in when a grad student. Fast forward eighteen years and my husband and I have put our house on the market. Our first house together (my third). We have lived here over a decade, been through hard years of marriage, wonderful years of marriage, having babies, raising our children. Our sons are now seven and four and we have a home that feels warm and full and replete with love and security. Something I missed; something I longed for. I love to be at home now. And, as I look at my watch now and see it is past four p.m., I know that our Open House is over. I can go home. Maybe we found our buyer today. Maybe it will be another day. But, we will move to our new house together and we will make it our home. Our home sweet home. Meanwhile, here I am . . .

Sitting here in limbo, waiting for the dice to roll.

Sitting here in limbo, got some time to search my soul.

Comments

  1. heartwriter says:

    Profound wisdom. Thanks for sharing.

    Like

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