One year ago we said our farewells to Sierra Vista and were on our way to Scottsdale, thence to New York, the Queen Mary, England and, ultimately, Ireland. And today I am sitting in our sparsely furnished but comfortable rental house back in Sierra Vista, quite glad that I am not en route again.
Not that we are by any means settled. The rental is for six months and one month of those six is already almost over. We have looked at houses to buy, houses to build. We have talked about the relative merits of Utah, Oregon, Phoenix, even back to Santa Fe. We actually still have a toehold in SF in the form of a condo that may or may not be reverting to us at end January. Another of life's complications. But nowhere strikes either of us as "home." Not that either of us knows quite what home looks like at 65 years old with our childhood homes forever changed and no place along our life's journey thus far having been able to lock us in.
I was looking at a few "Home" songs today--Homeward Bound by Simon & Garfunkel, Homeward Bound by Marta Keen, Michael Buble's Home, even In the Early Morning Rain--they all have the same theme. That home is represented by someone that is beloved of the wanderer. Someone that completes the wanderer, draws them back from wherever they are. But both of us are such independent spirits that, although we are joined together in this earth journey, neither of us look upon the other as "home." So we travel along rather like Hansel & Gretel, trying to find the bread crumbs that will lead us to a place that both will feel is home.
Still, life is grand. We are both healthy. Family is glad to see us again. Friends are too. We have sufficient money to live quite comfortably, food to eat, a comfortable bed (at last!), comfortable couch and chairs. Although sometimes I think the mind is slipping, in the main it still snaps back with clarity. Our house is a house of peace and quiet. Even Mitzi seems quite content to be back although I think she is the one who really has it right--she has always known that her home is where we are. And as long as we are there, she is happy (although food and walks are assumptions as part of the package.)
I have also been listening to an old TV program, "9/11 Rising Above-Music & the Spoken Word," and it is like God is answering the question that I have posed throughout this blog, "Where is home?" It is time to stop searching for it. Because home is here, is now and it is so fleeting and so precious.
Stop searching. Start living.
Not that we are by any means settled. The rental is for six months and one month of those six is already almost over. We have looked at houses to buy, houses to build. We have talked about the relative merits of Utah, Oregon, Phoenix, even back to Santa Fe. We actually still have a toehold in SF in the form of a condo that may or may not be reverting to us at end January. Another of life's complications. But nowhere strikes either of us as "home." Not that either of us knows quite what home looks like at 65 years old with our childhood homes forever changed and no place along our life's journey thus far having been able to lock us in.
I was looking at a few "Home" songs today--Homeward Bound by Simon & Garfunkel, Homeward Bound by Marta Keen, Michael Buble's Home, even In the Early Morning Rain--they all have the same theme. That home is represented by someone that is beloved of the wanderer. Someone that completes the wanderer, draws them back from wherever they are. But both of us are such independent spirits that, although we are joined together in this earth journey, neither of us look upon the other as "home." So we travel along rather like Hansel & Gretel, trying to find the bread crumbs that will lead us to a place that both will feel is home.
Still, life is grand. We are both healthy. Family is glad to see us again. Friends are too. We have sufficient money to live quite comfortably, food to eat, a comfortable bed (at last!), comfortable couch and chairs. Although sometimes I think the mind is slipping, in the main it still snaps back with clarity. Our house is a house of peace and quiet. Even Mitzi seems quite content to be back although I think she is the one who really has it right--she has always known that her home is where we are. And as long as we are there, she is happy (although food and walks are assumptions as part of the package.)
I have also been listening to an old TV program, "9/11 Rising Above-Music & the Spoken Word," and it is like God is answering the question that I have posed throughout this blog, "Where is home?" It is time to stop searching for it. Because home is here, is now and it is so fleeting and so precious.
Stop searching. Start living.
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