These five words are so true. Driving home from a weekend in Jersey last night, we talked about the idea of home. Joe said that he loves going back home because he knows it will always be there. That he feels so comfortable at his parent’s house and that he knows it will never, ever change. Joe’s families house is the epitome of a home. The first time I ever visited I knew their house was full of so much love and so many memories. I have always envied Joe’s ability to do the good old “go home” deal. Don’t get me wrong, I have a loving family and loving places, but they have changed many times over my twenty five years. I have lived in eight different towns/cities in my life and this moving to Brooklyn is my 21st time moving. It’s always something different and somewhere new to get used to.
The only solid place I still have, where nothing has changed is my Nana’s house. We visited there yesterday for lunch and as Joe and Nana chatted at the table, I snuck upstairs and curled into a ball on my bed in my room there. It felt so good and I looked around the room and absolutely nothing, had changed. There are two twin sized beds in the room, where Nate and I always slept. They have matching gold frames and matching quilts that my Nana made on them. They aren’t very comfortable but they have always been exactly the same. ”Same” can sometimes just feel so good, am I right? I felt comfort there, and then we went back to Joe’s parents, and I felt comfort there too. We had a nice dinner with his family from Vermont and spent hours on their back porch where conversation never lacked, it was nice.
When we realized it was after ten, we gathered our things and headed back to Brooklyn. The whole point of this rambling is that when we unloaded the car and found a spot and walked the dog and were both upstairs with the door locked- We said that it felt good to be home. Just casually. But, it did. Feel good. I choked up a little bit and thought of Dorothy Gale, because it’s so true. There really is, no place like home. /end sappy.
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