So many times I go into writing a post unsure that I'll be able to explain something I'm feeling. This is one of those times.It's a vague feeling that I forget about until I actually feel it and when I do feel it, it's so fleeting that by the time I try to write about it, it's gone.
Most of us have lived such transient lives that we never feel it. Or maybe I feel it sometimes and it's unique to me. Who knows? I felt it frequently in the other house we lived in because we were there for five years, but I haven't felt it in this house yet because we've only been here for eight months. It takes a while.
It's a feeling of belonging, of knowing where everything is, of being able to walk through the house late at night and not run into anything. It's not having to go on a major quest every time you need the duct tape, an important paper, the bottle opener. It's a feeling of being home, of being anchored.
I still feel like I'm in somebody else's house here. The roots haven't grown yet. I'm a person who grows roots like crazy, but now, I'm kind of afraid to because every time I do, they get yanked up and wither a little. Then they get stuck in some other soil and it takes them a long time to figure out if it's hospitable soil or not. It goes on a deep psychic level with me, not just that of new noises, new neighbors, new nooks and crannies.
Spring always gets me thinking about things like this, mostly because I always get homesick, not for California as much as the home I lived in since I was 17. And then it passes and I'm back to being content wherever I happen to be.
Yeah. It feels like that.
6 comments:
I was thinking back at the places I've lived and realize that where I am now is the longest I've ever been anywhere. We've been here since Dec. of '92. Somehow it still feels temporary. And I still don't seem to be able to find the duct tape!
I think I know what you mean. Walking through the night in a pitch black room, all lights are off, and knowing exactly where the wall begins and where it ends gives me a good feeling. The feeling of not being sure where either one is gives me a small fear of hitting an imaginary wall that never materializes. I guess that would be the feeling you describe.
Kind of, yeah. It's a feeling of being in the right place, too, but I can't describe it.
Yup, I know that feeling well. Sometimes it also takes moving a few things around.. just a little to reclaim that feeling. Sometimes it's just not quite right but can be made to feel so with a few small changes...
I've lived in this house all of my 58 years and I still don't feel like I belong here. I'm hoping that with all the painting, organizing, and re-arranging I want to do, I will lose some of that feeling. I've never had my own place because I was never in a position (financial and psychological)to afford one. It's past time for me to move from this house, and if my plans come to fruition, I'll be able to do that in the very near future. Right now, there are so many boxes and stacks of books and stuff that I can hardly find anything I want. The clutter and disorganization stress me out, but in order to eliminate it, I have to spend money on things like storage and more bookscases and I just don't have the money right now. One's home should be shelter and a haven from the world's craziness; instead, I have the chaos of the world's craziness in here with me. Argh! I'm not in the right place and I know it but it will take some time and doing before I get in the right place. Being in the wrong place can affect you so much.
It takes some adjustment, I think. When I bought this house in '03, there was a period of "I don't really deserve this" that kept me from enjoying the place to its fullest.
I got over it. Thank the heavens. (I have 23 years of payments left.)
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