"You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All the sudden, even though you have someplace to put your shit, that idea of home is gone."
Ever since I was 19, I have gone home. Home to a house that I grew up in since I was 4 years old. My mom worked hard on it to make it a nice home. A place that I was happy to live and to come home to, to invite friends to, to call home. As I have grown up and my sister and I have left the house, the town, and the state - that has all gradually changed. The first year I came home alot. I had a boyfriend to visit and family I just wasn't used to being away from for weeks at a time. Then the boyfriend changed and I wanted to bring the new one home with me - from this point on I was now a guest in my home. Bringing the boyfriend home was the turning point in my feeling of being welcome. I now had to give up my room for him and sleep on my sister's room on the floor. From that visit on I do not remember having my own room or bed to sleep in. My room became the new craft room / storage room for excess crap. Then it became my sister and my mom's bonding project while that started painting the walls to make it more Mary Englebreit. Then guess room with a futon and still a ton of crap. Now maybe this childish but this is where my feelings go bad everytime I go home. This was all gradual over the last 10 years. This all just kinda changed along with life and so I write it off as being simply getting older and growing up. Now life has changed as divorce has occurred under this same roof. Many feelings were challenged from many sides of the house. My mom battling to keep this house she so loved and made her own - and rightfully so. My dad would have never taken care of it like she has and sh was happy there. It was hard to come home even more after this. Now my bedroom was not mine and my parents were not there together. Now I was not only sleeping in another bed like company but also having to set up my own "visitation" with my own parents because "God forbid" they sit in the same house. I have taken my time over the last 3 years to get used to this too. The divorce was threaten, filed, and final. Dad left town, which made visiting easier since I had less running around to think about. And then comes the new relationship. Now my mom has a new love. A year ago now I recieve the call that my mom is going on a date. Now the new layer has arrived. Now I am a guest in Mom's house and getting to know her with a new man. This is fine. It is not her being happy that makes me upset. It is the 15 year old approach to it. When I was that age and wanted to be giddy about a boy I was teased if not ignored and shrugged off. I was too young to really be in love. Even when I dated someone for 2 years I was still too young to know what love is. When I was older and dating, I was alway not carefull enough, not thinking enough, moving too fast..... all these cautions rarely support or even interest. Now I am the adult to her teenage relationship and I just really want to do to her what she did to me. But she is still the damn mom and she still "knows" best. And because "she has been ruined by a shitty marriage for the last 30 years - damn it she deserves to be happy". Fine. I am happy for her. I don't, however, think the relationship ego needs my stroking. I don't need to remind her how much she deserves to be happy - she knows. I don't need to ask about the sorted details because I am the daughter not her friend and therefore - her birthcontrol tests and sleeping arrangements are not something I need to have full knowledge. Now we come to present day - or three days ago - when we have come back again to this place we continue to believe is home to find out that the boyfriend of one whole year is now becoming the "roommate". Nevermind that he has 2 homes of his own to live in now they are going to live together in the house I have a hard enough time living in and visiting and calling home. And to add fuel to the flame - she tells us that they have decided to move into the house he is rebuilding together when it is complete. Unless they plan to live in the new house and keep the old ones for fun - in the next year, I will be completely out a home altogether. I know that there are people who's families have moved several times and they are far from their childhood home or anything like it - so I should just get over it. And I will try and I will live with it. It is not my life... I moved my life 325 miles away and this is hers to do with as she sees fit to make herself happy. And Wayne does do just that. Somedays I just wish that my travels that far would be met with someplace that is a comfort to me not just a bed that was cleared for my arrival in a house that has to prove its happiness. Life should not require so much emotional confusion - it does but damn it shouldn't. When you hang your hat it should just be hung and on with the day.
Then there is the confusion of a life that I have moved closer too but yet have lately felt more and more distant from. My uncle has become stranger and stranger making visting harder. I should go visit Kathy and mentally relieve her from her life but that does require alot of time from my day for the 45 minute trip there and then back again and quality time. Others in the house have proven themselves "too good" for my company time and time again over the summer. And now I find out that the one thing we were all avoiding before has come to life.... Larry has been National Guard for a few years now. And right as we were going to war that was our fear - that Rosemount would be called and he would go to war too. But we have been lucky. They have just educated him across the country for the last 4 years until now. Now they have decided it is his troops turn on the field. I try not to think about it but the truth is that they do send some of them home wounded and worse. The truth is that nothing is certain over there. And the truth is that even though we haven't been the closest this year he is still the closest thing I have to a brother and he is still going away. He is still going to go and we can do nothing but pray and hope. And I have to give him credit for the brave approach he has to it at this moment in time when you know that underneath it all - he really is scared to death.
The world, the state, the towns, and the places we call home are always in question. Are we safe or surviving, are we where we want to be in life or love, are we still the people we were raised to be or are we worse or better, and do we really belong anywhere.
"Its like you feel homesick for this place that doesn't really exist. Maybe that's all family really is... a group of people that miss the same imaginary place."