The Evolving Definition of "Home"

7:00 a.m. came far too early this morning. I really did not want to leave my cozy, warm bed. Rab had come home Thursday night (yep, you guessed it...sick kids AGAIN!), so I had the morning off from any and all mom jobs. I stretched out with the bulimic, queeny cat and caught up on frivolous Today Show news. Before I knew it, it was 7:45, then 8:00. Finally, I got out of bed to begin my day.

8:30 found me on the road to the Castle. I went to meet with my SASD (Super Awesome Spiritual Director). As I reached my beloved second home town, fog blanketed the Mississippi River. Clouds filled the sky as a light Oregonian mist dotted my windshield. And, somehow, I did not experience that sigh of relief known as, "ahhh....home." I thought that was a bit strange. It was also a bit unexpected.

I don't think it had anything to do with the fog itself. I think the fog was a sign. The canvas previously painted as "home" was being obscured. While parts of the old painting may even still remain, the overall picture has changed. The details and the characters and the clarity are now a blurred shadow.

After spiritual direction and a wonderful lunch with Small Town Girl, I went about town running errands. I went to the Castle bookstore - the rest of the Castle was an empty shell - a campus in the summertime. As I headed to the stores, I still knew all the backroads. I still knew which stores to hit first in search of the items on my list. It was all familiar, but it was no longer home. It was only home-ish. A lukewarm, gray-like familiarity without all the benefits and joys, without all the people that used to make it home.

As I drove into Jerusalem this evening, nearly 12 hours after leaving. The gray, heavy clouds remained in the sky. The roads were especially dark and gray, having just received a shower of raindrops. Yet, miraculously, the sun shone brightly through the layers of clouds. Everything had that fresh, just-rained smell and outlined look. I drove past Joyous Volunteer's house and once again admired her porch. I drove past the local Piggly Wiggly. I drove by our local pharmacy, the Hilarious Methodist Organist's and by my Mobil station (not just any Mobil station...my Mobil station). And as I turned at the station, somehow, I knew...I was home.