A long bittersweet post.

I LOVE HOME.

But I doubt anyone would ever define me as a homebody. I went to camp for a month at age 8 and was never home another summer in my life. I hopped over one state to go to college even though there were about three only minutes from my door step, and at age 22, I have been privileged enough to visit atleast 12 different countries. One of which was David’s first time out of the country and we DROVE there. (Mexico) The truth is, I love adventure and maybe even unknown. But there is one thing I definitely don’t love and that is being a nomad, wanderer, rambler, whatever you want to call “belonging nowhere.” The wandering is thrilling, but part of what makes travel so wonderful is at the end of the day, you’ve experienced something new and exciting that is different from the norm, but there is still a norm to go home to. I’m not saying that I necessarily love the normal, but I do love going home to my roots.

It is a bizarre feeling to drive home after living somewhere else for awhile. I swear that when I turn on some road in Athens, they are actually more comfortable. I’ve been sitting in the same car seat the whole way, but suddenly by taking a right on a road I am more at ease than ever, like I got up and sat in an entirely new place. The familiarity is indescribable. Then, halfway through college, suddenly there is a similar, but not as strong feeling attached to your new town. I will never forget my mother’s face when I accidently called Auburn home once.

But that’s what I’m beginning to get at… home can be a very confusing concept. When I was a junior in college, I used to complain about not having roots anywhere. I had just moved into an old beat up house with a bunch of my buddies, but it was not a place to put down roots.  There was no use in really fixing the house up because our stay there was not long enough to spend a bunch of money on it. We painted walls, but it was still a temporary habitat. My tiny closet only held seasons at a time, so half of my junk stayed in Athens. I felt like me and my crap were all over the map.

Now, being in Athens for the summer, I’ve never loved living at home so much. All of us are under the same roof like we used to be… for the very last time. Anne and I are getting are fill of Big City Bread, and mom and I are biking together. Dad comes home again to a house full of women and mess every night. Although we could never recreate the way we grew up, I love being here at a completely different age. I’m just soaking in everything I can before I take a clipping to plant in a new place.

Home will be totally redefined.

As one may guess by the blog title, I love flowers.  So, when part of David’s graduation present to me was a window basket for our new house, I was ecstatic. Still, inside the basket was the new She & Him cd I’d really been wanting too. As we were walking later, he asked me if I had gotten the drift of the gift, but I hadn’t even thought about it. He had given me a place to put down new roots. Even better than that was the fact that She & Him’s first cd is called volume one, and David gave me the new cd, volume two. What a great place to start a second phase.

Lyrics from the song “Home” by She & Him

I could be your state and I could be your nation
It doesnt get better than home, now does it?
Doesnt get better than home, now does it? (x3)

I could be your welcome, I could be your greeter
I could be sweet and I could be sweeter,  I want to be where your heart is home (x3)

These last two months are a bittersweet goodbye to my old home and exciting preparation for the new one, and the process is a great reminder that we aren’t really home yet anyways. The homes in this life may be wonderful, but they are all temporary and nothing in comparison to our eternal one.

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