Going Home

You know that old saying, “Home is where the heart is?” For me, both “my home” and “my heart” have been abstract, undefined concepts.

I sort of conceptually understand what the saying means. It means that where you feel comfortable is where you will feel at home. It’s saying that your place of comfort and ease is a place that you carry with you, and not external to you.

I like this saying because it means that whatever I need, I have within me. I have not been able to trust those whose job it was to care for me. From a very young age, I knew it was me and myself against the world.

I remember one time, when I was around 6 or so, my dad and I were in a car when he stopped to fill up his tank. He left the car and walked away. I thought he had walked away for ever, leaving me in the backseat of the car.

“Okay, Amy. What are we going to do now?” I asked myself. “Be careful. You’re a kid, and you’ve all you’ve got in the world.”

I had developed a plan where I would climb out of the car and go into the gas station. I would catch the attention of the gas station attendant. I would tell him, “My name is Amy. I am six years old. My dad has left me in a car. I need your help to call my mom.”

Of course this was all moot, because my dad returned after a few minutes and we drove away.

It’s weird to think about this as an old broad, but I want to reach through time and hug that little so-and-so who was sitting worried in the backseat. I would tell them that they’re doing just fine. That of course they’re strong and capable, but that they don’t need to be strong and capable. They deserve ease and care, hard work and meaningful work. And love.

And those things are all true now too. I can take care of myself, but the best thing I know is that I shouldn’t need to.

I think that that’s the truth. This is the heart that I can come home to. I can take care of myself and my kids, and where we are together, we will be home. I have some friends and loved ones. I have many people that I am excited to see each day. I have important things to say. And my spirit lives on in my children. They are my heart. They are my home.

Funny to say, but looking back on it, I think my divorce has actually increased my heart, and thus, my home. My ex is still part of my heart, and will always be. And his girlfriend is also part of my heart, strange as it is to say. Our new, larger family model has kind of expanded my heart, and my home.

I have a job that I like. That is part of my heart, and my home. I write. This is part of my heart and home too. I read. I laugh. I dance. I watch horror movies. All part of my heart, and my home.

I am actually looking for a new place to live right now. I don’t know when or where– I’m kind of like a bird on the wind, noticing which way it’s blowing, and going along with it.

When I find it, I know it won’t feel like a home. I know home is in me. Home is in my heart, and home is my heart. My heart is my home. Sometimes I forget my heart, and I don’t feel at home. I feel ungrounded, and I lose track of my heart and my home. But then I remember and reconnect with my heart. And I come back home.

Thank you for being part of my heart, and being part of my home. I am home.