House of Belonging
“You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it’s all right.” ~Maya Angelou
Settling into our new digs.
You know that “just right place” I mentioned? We’re not there.
That place turned out to be not so right after all. The owners (friends of family) contacted me the night before we were to move letting me know there was a strong possibility that the house was sold. The potential buyers were approved for their loan and want to move in by July.
The only real down side to that is we would have had oodles of space. I mapped out the floor plan and we allotted a spot for all of our stuff. After the disappointing news, I thought how crazy that was of me. Looking back on it, I’m actually glad I made a map because I realized how I would be even more heartbroken when it did sell, if it wasn’t us in a year or so. We’re just grateful the owners told us about the buyer before we actually moved in.
Thus we were back to Plan A, living with my parents.
On the plus side we’re saving some pennies (thanks Mom and Dad!!), we’re closer to work, we’re not dealing with crummy cell service (still crummy here, but not as), we have more time to find a “just right place”–for real this time, and we’re back in the house I grew up in. And I’ve always loved coming “home”.
Moving back after being away for 17 years presents some interesting lessons.
I moved in with my parents for a short time after my divorce, but I was rarely here. I wasn’t really a resident.
This is different.
When we would tell people where we were moving, half the time people reacted negatively… but I’ve learned that comes with every move. Opposition. And of course the reactions of people who grew up here are as varied as the people. Many who grow up in a small community often say, “I’ll never go back there.” I said it.
It’s all about perspective. Where you’ve been and what you take away from those places.
My current perspective on moving back to the Middle of Nowhere, UT stems from a memory full of happiness in my first 18 years here, from a new-found love for the people and the community because of my job, and because of the places I’ve been and the lessons learned from big city to small town life.
The surroundings are stirring up some of those old memories. And old habits. For 18 years I would jump of the back of the back porch to go to the back of the house. The other day I did that. Old habits are hard to break. When I jumped this time, I whacked my arm on a dryer vent that was added with a remodel of the kitchen/laundry area 4 years ago. I realized, then, that things aren’t where they used to be.
The best parts of living here are the beauty of the seemingly endless country like this…
which can be my daily view while eating my breakfast, listening to the myriad of song birds, sitting on this…
and the close-knit community that rallies around when a tragedy hits, like the farming accident that killed a very beloved high school teacher and coach.
We went to the funeral yesterday and the number in attendance was amazing, but the moment his favorite primary song was sung was the most moving moment I’ve ever experienced at a funeral. I have a greater appreciation for the Plan of Happiness and for this community and countryside.
Among other tributes being paid to him, tomorrow morning, the community is going to Coach Gardner’s family home to do yard work and maintenance–to fix it up for his wife and three kids.
I’m over my phase of “never living there again”, thanks to realizing–in this case–that I’m not in control of my life. Like that dryer vent that I whacked my arm on, I’m not in the place I used to be.
Now here’s that song from the funeral. It’s also been my favorite since I was in primary.