I woke up this morning feeling a bit out of sorts about our impeding move. Even though I’m excited to chase our dream, admittedly, I have been worried about moving and leaving the house I have grown to love.
This is the home my dog of 14 years died in. This is the house our son turned from a toddler to a boy in. This is the house we brought our daughter home to from the hospital when she was born. We uncovered stained glass windows and redid hardwood floors here. We’ve celebrated holidays and milestones in her rooms and on her big front porch. We’ve mourned a death here and the loss of false friends. We’ve planted bushes and vines and flowers and waited as they bloomed in the spring.
This has been our home, one we’ve grown into, cried and rejoiced in. Truth be told: it’s hard to leave it. Even if a change is a good one, sometimes, it’s just not easy.
Early this morning, I was making my daughter a waffle and we were listening to music. Randomly and rather serendipitously, “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros came on.
My daughter started dancing in her seat and said to me “hold you.” I picked her up and we danced around the kitchen in our pajamas, the early morning sun streaming in the windows. As we danced, she put her head on my shoulder and hugged me tightly. And the words “home is wherever I’m with you” played in the air. I know the song and sang it to her and by the end, she chimed in on the chorus, singing “home” loudly.
I believe the song didn’t come on by chance; I really think I was to hear this song this morning. And it was like a message to me that home is right there, right in her arms and in the arms of her brother and daddy sitting in the living room. The dance this morning brought me a sense of calm and peace that was indescribable. The song reminded me of what home really means.
Thanks for Mothering the Divide with me here tonight. I hope my dance this morning reminds you, too, that home is wherever you’re with the people you love.
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