July 8, 2012
I am on my way to Austin, Texas. I am actually writing this from the airplane. (So weird.) I am headed to see my best friend and pick up my children. They've been in Austin for two weeks and I miss them like crazy. We will then head to Houston to see my mom, step-dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and grandmother. My beloved Texas family. My roots.
When my girlfriend was dropping me off at the airport she said something about me going home . . . and in that moment, I realized I actually felt like I was about to be in between homes - in between being with her and Noah and Ren. I'm not sure if going back to Texas feels like going home anymore. Home to me feels like being with Noah and Ren. Home to me feels like being with Dre. I'm not sure when this change happened. Texas is still in me; it always will be - in the way I talk and move through the world. It will always be the home where I grew up.
Home to me is that feeling of comfort, acceptance, love and space. My yoga mat, now that feels like home - no matter where I lay it out. (I forgot my yoga mat. Forgot my sacred rectangular piece of rubber. "No worries," I tell myself. I can take up yoga space on the hard wood floor at Sarah's, my sister's or my mom's house.)
Home, it's not a structure or a location - it's a feeling. I am creating that in my life. I am creating that with my children. I wonder what it feels like to them, to always be going back and forth between two houses. I wonder if they are able to feel a sense of home in their bodies, no matter where they are.
Home was on Oxford street for 10 years. 10 years was about the longest I lived anywhere. Leaving that house, definitely felt like leaving home - the home where I gave birth to Noah and Ren. The home where transformation for me thrived. The home where beginnings and endings took place. The home where people gathered and grew. The home where friends moved in and out. One day not too long ago, Ren told me at the dinner table that she was going home; she was going home to the Oxford house. I realized what a loss it has been for us all.
And in the loss, comes letting go. In the letting go, comes everything that has happened since.
For the last 2 1/2 years, home has been on Josephine Street, with Dee Dee & Zoe on one side and Vicky and Gary on the other. We have a magic garden with vegetables and flowers and a shared outdoor space. I have come to appreciate the feeling of being outside, even when I'm inside, the noise from the neighborhood trampoline, the comings and goings of people through the garden, the 950 square foot space where everything has to be moved, to get to something else - literally, and the one bathroom we all share that is really too small to fit two people at once. In all it's cramped ways, it is vastly magnificent. I am so greatful.
I am full of gratitude in this moment, imagining the reunion I will have with those Green children, whom I can not wait to smoosh up into my arms and cover them with kisses . . . home.