Home. Home is where you hang your hat. Home is where the
heart is. Home is wherever I’m with you.
Lately I have been evaluating what home is for me. In the
past I have always associated it with a location. For a good portion of my
life, Fargo was home. Where my parents were. Where my friends and memories
lived. But the mountains have always called my name, and over time Utah started
to feel more like home. Where I belonged. Where my people were. Where my
adventures happened.
Over the past four years, home has transitioned from a place
to more of a concept. I had created a home with someone else. Wherever we were,
that is where home was. We had each other and our dog. Our family. My family.
For the past six months I have felt, in a sense, homeless. I
have lost those things that defined what home was for me. I have a physical
home, but that home has become a display of an old life being covered up with a
few new paintings and photos in the picture frames. I still find puppy hairs woven
into the fibers of fabrics. I still expect to find someone waiting for me when
I open the door.
But I have found solace in the company of some of the best
friends a girl could ask for. I’ve gotten joy out of little things I never
expected, like having my own room again, planning my own day, watching hours
and hours of Doctor Who with no judgment, cooking the same meal everyday for a
month. And of course moments of home come when I get up in the mountains. But to
be honest, I have struggled to make a home of my own. A life of my own. I have
found myself searching for a person to find home in, and the reality is that
there isn’t. Not for now anyway. Sure, I could just latch on to the next person
that would let me, revolve my life around them, forget and distract myself from
the pains and triumphs of moving on. But that really wouldn’t solve anything or
help me progress like I want and need to.
I actually feel really lucky to have the opportunity find a
home within myself, because really at the end of the day, all we have are
ourselves. Our friends, spouses, children, pets, possessions, may be with us
and even help define us, but really, if you can’t be with yourself, what do you
have to share and give to someone else?
I’ve grown attached to Utah. In a big way. Growing up I
always dreamed of moving here someday. And since I have, though I’ve taken breaks
from it, always come back. It has everything I want in a place to live and I
really think I could stay here forever and be happy. But for reasons that are
too complicated to explain, my season in Utah is coming to an end. I always
thought Utah would feel like home, but for right now, it doesn’t. Right now it’s
a place that constantly reminds me of what I used to have and who I used to be.
And that is hard to face when I’m in a time of life where I’m trying to figure
out who I am and what I want without those things.
Another part of this whole thing that I cannot escape is
that I’m a wanderer. It’s in my blood. I can’t ignore it, and I will never get
it out of my system. And now that I have no place to call my home, my desire to
wander has increased like I would have never expected. I thought I was ready to
settle, but not yet.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I’m packing up
and moving out. Selling as many of my belongings as I can, fitting whatever I
have left in my car, and hitting the refresh button on my life. Moving on to my
search for home.
So why not start in a place that still is home to me in a lot
of ways? That’s right, folks. I’m heading back to the plains for a little bit. It
may seem like I’m just running back to my hometown, into the arms of my
parents, free of obligation, a step back. Yes, I will be happy to be around my
family and some of the comforts that only a hometown can give, but it’s just a
stepping stone. I’m moving back with a purpose. A way to pay off some debts,
save up, spend time at the lakes, and enjoy the Midwestern life before I wander
some more. And I’ve got plans people. Big plans. Who knew that Fargo would play
a part in me getting there? Oh that Fargo, always full of surprises.
So I’m planning on leaving in a few weeks. Mid-Septemberish.
If you are in Utah, make sure you come and see me before I leave. If you are in
Fargo, start preparing yourself, mentally and emotionally, for my arrival. If
you are in neither of those places, stay put. I’m sure I’ll pass through one of
these days.
Oh, and welcome to my new blog. Please follow, comment, check
in whenever you fancy. There will be many more ramblings to come.
