Thursday, June 27, 2013

Going Home

This week, M & I are home. It took us 2 airplanes and a car ride to get to my parents house, my home, on Tuesday - a place where I've never lived.

Many people tell me about going home for summer or the holidays - seeing old friends, going to places they used to hang out, High School reunion type get together. I see pictures of these gatherings on Facebook a lot, and honestly, I'm sometimes envious.

I don't go home to a place where I grew up. I've been here, 1 hour northwest of Madison in Baraboo, Wisconsin maybe if I'm lucky 20 times since 1994 where my parents left Texas for a new job for Dad, and have set up shop. They love this sleepy town that has 4 seasons (I think it's mainly winter) and their group of friends.

When I visit, the family and I get taken through town to meet faces I see on my Mom's Facebook page or have met maybe once before. Sadly, most people are new to me, but I'm not new to them. They have heard all about me and the family, especially the one and only granddaughter, beloved M.

Home is a tricky question for me. "Where are you from?" leads to where is my home. I mean my husband was born in Oregon but moved to Bainbridge Island, Washington and grew up there - where his parents still are, so that's easy.

For me, this is a question that isn't easy to answer. When people ask me this, they assume where I'm from is my home and everything about my personality type, accent (do I have one?) will make sense. Recently, I finally mastered the answer to the question.

"I was raised in Texas."

Because If I tell anyone I'm from Texas, they then begin to question my lack of a Texas accent, why I don't live and breathe football, etc.

Yes, I was raised in Texas by 2 east coast parents who now live in Wisconsin but lived in a few states before Texas before I was 8 years old and now live in Seattle but I've lived in 7 states.

(See, my new answer is easier.)

So I'm not from anywhere particular place, but I still have a home, a place where I can go and learn new things about and play with our daughter and explore with my husband. Granted, I can barely tell you where the movie theater is or where to get gas, but I know where the lake is and how to relax here and catch up on slowing down in this little slice where I call home.


  1. You know, as stereotypically cheesy as it is, home is where the heart is. I tried (in vain) to return to Southern California (AKA home) after many years away only to discover my heart didn't live there anymore and home was in a place I least expected it to be. So there's that.