Homeless and Homecoming

I have been homeless for one year and one month.  When I say that, I must explain that I have been fortunate enough to have a place to live, just not in my own home.   Last year, I left my home in the middle of the night with only my nightgown on.  I had to leave a bad, impossible and ridiculous situation.  I reached my limit – right then – and I left.  The only option I had that night was to leave my home.  Of course, I had the weird but thankful circumstance that my parents lived next door, so that’s as far as I went that night, but I might as well have gone 1000 miles away considering how my life has changed since that moment.

In one year, I have not slept in my own bed, have not sat on my own couch, have not played my own piano, have not cooked in my own kitchen.   For Christmas, I didn’t decorate a tree (or anything!).  For Thanksgiving, I didn’t use my own dishes.  In summer, I didn’t have my annual croquet tournament.  I didn’t plant a garden and I let the weeds cover my patio.  Life changed.  I was living in limbo, in transition, in transformation.  Home is where your comforts are, until they are no longer comfortable.  Then, it is no longer home. 

With awkwardness in excess, living next door to my own house (and former husband) was short-lived.  I moved further away to the lake house that my parents have been renovating for a few years.  It was a sanctuary.  It was peaceful.  It was separate from the chaos.  It was very comfortable, but it was not home.

I have waited, with teeth clenched, holding my breath, for this new moment.  I am now home.  If you would come to my house, you’d probably think it was pretty dumpy.  It has been neglected for a while.  It needs to be painted.  It needs plumbing work.  It needs to be thoroughly cleaned.  It needs to have floors refinished.  It needs to be renovated.  It needs a lot.  But it’s all mine now and I love it.  It’s old and has character and is beautiful.  However, it is an enormous house for just one person.  So, I’m not sure how long I'm going to stay here.  But I am going to put a lot of work and love into it.  I am a huge fan of architecture and houses – the house deserves to be renovated and renewed.   

Coming home made me reflect on what that word “homecoming” means.  We just recently had Homecoming at school. I have a friend from Columbia who asked me what Homecoming meant.  I told her that the original purpose was a time for alumni to come back and visit and it is a celebration with all sorts of fun events.  So, here I am at my own homecoming -- literally coming home to my house, my stuff, my comforts.  I think I should have my own celebration, maybe not a parade, but at least a party to commemorate this change.  I have been and will continue to be renovated and renewed.   I have come home.