Two years ago, I stood in our Houston apartment, wondering how I would be able to sense home again. I occupied the space of uncertainty, not knowing, how to take a step forward into our move to Arizona. I’d never moved outside of Texas and the thought of starting over in my mid-thirties seemed so unreachable, the swirl of anxiety and expectation gnawed at me.
I am notorious for asking my husband these six words, “How is this going to work?” He’s always embraced change, not anticipating it with angst, but welcoming it with ease, almost like changing channels on the television set. The possibilities of the unknown simmer in my mind. I want a guaranteed outcome before I make a decision. There is an obvious flaw in that statement, but the knowledge of this doesn’t alter my pedantic thinking.
Through the course of the last two years, I’ve considered the complicated relationship between home and self. It’s a multi-layered approach for me and one that is in flux. Home for most of my life lingered on Bosque Street where I grew up with my parents. Home was walks down our street, ice cream runs at Braums, and eating veggie whoppers (yes, there is such a thing) at Burger King. During my summer vacations to India, I felt a sense of home, eating kulfis (Indian ice cream), walking to the street market with my aunt, and drawing mendhi designs with my with my cousin. When I married, home was the connection I felt with my husband. It was saying “his wife” when we were newly married, lunch at Tia’s (our favorite Mexican place), and walking through bookstores after dinner.
And now, home is Arizona. And I am so surprised that I am saying it out loud.
I love the smell of the desert, especially after the rain. I like how the cactus’s bloom pink flowers in the spring. The run through the neighborhood is comforting, especially because I share it with someone who inspires me to act with grace, my friend K. I like waving to my neighbors as we cross paths and our evening impromptu chats. My daughter loves her school and we’ve both formed relationships with the moms and children. She’s acclimated well to the change, almost like she’s lived in Arizona her whole life.
Sometimes I think it is because she is a child, she doesn’t know the anxiety of change, but I’m breathing that same air too. Perhaps it is because I’ve found a home in my writing. Although I’ve written on and off most of my life, I’ve committed to it here, more than any other place. My writing groups are a place where I feel most at home, exchanging ideas and learning about the craft. I’ve made so many connections in this place that I believe will continue for a lifetime.
And the surprising part of it is? Change was such a curse word in my purview. It’s a word I’ve been scared of for a long time. But I’ve realized that home can be in change too.
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Has your sense of home changed? Does it surprise you? Do you relish change or curse it?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Rudri – such lovely, longing ponderings… and a sense of coming to terms…. I ‘m so there. When I left home I was always looking back, always thinking it would remain for me to return. But that opportunity has mostly closed. You become somehow a little part of everywhere you’ve been. My eight generation family farm will become my sisters. The hedgerows I hoed and chased deer through while she walked the mall will still be there, mine to wander in my memory, while she chases the demands that a land-poor working mother of three must chase. The images of the Canadian Geese, coyotes, the rare arrowhead on furrowed ground, my grandfather curled up under the apple tree – asleep, the family riding the apple wagon down the street as we took loads of apples to the cider press – these are mine… neither time, nor place, nor decisions I don’t understand can ever take them from me. You root where you’re planted, even if that is desert soil – which this time of year, you won’t have to look far for the wonders it yields. Thank you for your lovely share… and the warm nod to writing groups! Touchette my thinking friend. Touchette!
Renee,
I love the memories that you share of your own home. The images are so vivid. It’s like I am sharing your notion of home with you. Thanks for your support Renee, as a writer, but most importantly as my friend. xoxo Rudri
I love that your sense of home focuses on the relationships, the experiences and the memories of different places you spend time. I have to admit that I have a weakness for BK veggie burgers. And it sounds like you and your husband balance each other really well.
Thanks Judy. Those BK veggie burgers are great aren’t they? Home is the connection between all of your relationships and the feelings that emanate from them. It’s taken me some time to realize that.
Home is wherever I am with the ones I love. While I feel it is here, I am willing to move and redefine to be with them. I am not good with change but I’ll adjust to be with the people most dear to me. Lovely post, Rudri.
Great perspective Suzicate. It’s not place, but people. Thanks for the reminder.
Rudri,
It’s amazing how children adjust to things easier then we do . I am glad that you found your peace and now you are happy in your home. Many more happy memories await you .
I am constantly in awe of my daughter and how she just adjusts to change like it was already a part of her. Thanks so much for your sentiment.
Arizona is seductive. I really really tried not to like it here, but the desert got to me and now I’ll never leave 🙂 Glad to have you here too!
Thanks Windy! Thanks for making me feel so welcome.
For those of us who grow up with several “selves” or feet in different cultures, in some ways, I think we’re never home. With that comes a sort of adaptability, a nostalgia for something we can’t ever quite grasp, and also freedom. We know that we can manage in more than one environment. We may even thrive on it more than we realize.
I think I know more the locations that do not feel like home than those which do – and there are several that do, in some key ways. What you say about being at home in writing makes perfect sense to me; in words and their universe, I feel most at ease.
BLW,
That’s an interesting way to look at home. I’ve never thought about it in terms of where I don’t feel like home. I am too busy defining the terms. One thing I do know is the comfort of words. They will always feel like home.
I have always wanted to go there!!! I’m glad you feel at home.
If you ever want to come visit Tiffany, let me know. I would love to show you around.
My sense of home is pretty broad. I tend to get a comfortable “at-home” feel pretty much anywhere I can be with my family. But if I had to give a location for my home, I’d definitely say San Francisco. I’ve lived here for so long and can’t imagine relocating to another town to live.
I think you define it perfectly. Home is where the people that matter the most share your space.