I am back-back "home". It does feel as if this is where I belong. I guess there is an actual place that I call home. I am reminded of my trips to summer camp as a child. I used to bring a hammer and nails with me to camp and the first thing I did to unpack was to hang up some flannel shirts around my bunk. Even then, I needed some visuals to create my space. A space my own. A space that allayed my anxieties and gave me comfort.
I came in Friday night and closed the door and immediately felt the silence. I still have a hard time coming "home" and having him absent. Yes, this is home but there is definitely something missing. True, I am comforted by the familiar-but still remember how it was to come home to him. And so I spent the day yesterday on the verge of tears. Hard for me to cry-a door that won't open for me.
So home for me is where I am comforted and also challenged. Where I gain my strength and where I confront my weakness.