“Home is wherever I’m with you.”
~ Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
We spent the quiet week between Christmas and New Years packing up our beloved townhome and moving to a big old Victorian house nearby. I dreamt of this home, and now it is a part of my sweet reality. But as perfect as it is, and as much as I love it here, I find myself missing the coziness and warmth and utter familiarity of the old place.
A lot happened over there, including the beginning of my marriage and the birth of a new family. It was the first home known by both Giovanna and Emile. But they’re not sad one bit. Now they have their own rooms and so much more space to play. Although the house has already “bitten” Gigi (she fell on the cement stairs outside, see photo below), she has not been dissuaded. There are endless nooks and crannies for curious children (and adults) to explore.
Only because of these two smiles can I also understand that there’s no reason to be sad. We’ve started a new chapter in this beautiful home, a chapter that includes sunsets and sunrises, many windows, an expansive lawn and a grand piano (which came with it). The old place will remain part of my past, and I will carry it around forever in the folds of my memory. I find myself trying to recall every detail of that home, how I felt when I moved through it, which floor boards squeaked and how the light filtered into the rooms. In time, the memories will fade like the color in old photographs. And even if I cannot summon the smell of the entryway or the number of steps to get from my bed to the toilet, it doesn’t make my life in that home any less real. It doesn’t make the love that blossomed between those four walls disappear.
Already, even with boxes still to unpack and pictures waiting to be hung, the new house feels like home. Because home is wherever I’m with them.