Home is where the heart is. Every society has some level of importance placed on one’s home. I am finding it so strange that I get that feeling of home from a bare piece of property I haven’t owned for more that a few months.We are heading up their soon and the level of anticipation of stepping foot on that soil has me distracted. All I can do is think about when we can be there for good.
I believe it is because I yearn for what this land represents. I can see all the real potential for a thriving happy life hidden in the grains of sand and unforgiving rocks. I can’t wait to sweat and work and create something that is truly mine. I have endless hopes and there are endless possibilities. New things to learn, new skills to acquire.
I have to temper all the things that I want, with all the things I know I can accomplish. Our house will be built with sweat equity, not just throwing money at it. And every bit of it, the good and the slightly off kilter, will be by our hands.
At the same time, my current residence no longer feels like home. My saving grace is that my family is here, or lives close by, and I love them all dearly; But the towns, the area, and the physical structure of my house is not home. I no longer feel comfortable here; it no longer resonates with my soul and where I see my life going. This place is just a place. Part of my past.
“At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from. Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been before.”
― Warsan Shire
It could be that I have these feelings because my dreams seem so far in the future as to almost be not quite real. Bare dirt is not yet a home… potential is not yet a home… But I will get there.
I am constantly reminding myself things take time.