Can't go home again (Home · Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros)

     I have often wondered if you can ever really feel at home after you have grown up and moved out of your first house.  You know the noise of each door and window and creak in the floor.   The sidewalks were a map of cracks and roots from overgrown maple trees.  You knew which ones were fun to ride your bike over while zooming around the block.  You could set your clock to the Mr. Softee song as he pulled you from a game of manhunt to treat yourself to a cone.  When you went to a store you were greeted by name and then asked a million questions about everyone else in the neighborhood.  You knew from the knock on the door which friend was there to say hello. The rumble of the train was no louder than the fire truck siren and neither really disturbed you much.  They were all part of the noise of childhood.  You knew every smell, sight and sound...
     Last night I drove by another old neighborhood.  It was my first apartment when I moved away from the second home I had ever lived in (never really felt at home there either).  I only spent two years there.  I know some roads well but others are still a mystery because of the short time I was around.  It always feels a little odd to drive those streets again knowing that my drive home is not just down the road a bit.  That life feels like forever ago.  Then there's the local home I have to pass all of the time.  My first official home...the one that I owned.  My name was on a deed.  When we drive by I always say hello to it in my head which is echoed by my daughter saying out loud "Hello old house!" with excitement (and a tad bit of sadness).
     I have lived in my current house for almost five years now.  Home?  Nope.  I have never been able to call it home...not in that sense, anyway.  It has been many things to me...a place for wonderful parties, the site of a beautiful wedding,  the music hall for my daughter's piano,  and where I made many first recipes.  But it has also been the place of sadness...where I watched my cat slowly get ill, where basements have flooded irreplaceable memories, where worlds have crumbled financially and emotionally and where a mother has said goodbye to this world.
     I have thought long and hard at this concept of "home".  I strive for it someday.  I hope to find the right porch for drinking lemonade.  The right weeping willow branches to play in.  To have the sense of neighbors and friends.  To have my seat on my couch under my lamp reading my book and to be able to sigh at the thought of feeling at home.  A knock at the door (or no knock at all) means a friend popping in for coffee and a giggle. The smell of a pie in the oven.   Pets snuggled on laps.  Peace, love, simplicity. 
     I spent last night at an event that honored women and an organization that fought homelessness and the struggles that go with it.  These women were recovering addicts, mothers of many children, had education challenges and were finding jobs and health benefits.  I realized the root of feeling not at home...starts within your own skin.  The building...the location...the people around you...they aren't the key.  You are.  Everything else falls into place AFTER that.  But when you don't know your own spirit, when you have lost the body that housed your soul, when your heart is somewhat in pieces...it's hard to live in the dwelling known as "home".  Maybe home is that feeling of being okay with yourself.  We are all striving for the different structure, the other person, the perfect job, etc....maybe we just need to move into ourselves, put up a few pieces of artwork that inspire us and get a screen door for the porch.  One that allows us to breathe.  One that lets us hear the call of a friend.  We have been bolted behind a steel door in a house full of clutter.  Our house.  Maybe if the house is cleaned out and we find who we really are...maybe then we can start to feel like home.  No two story colonial with 2.5 baths and 4 bedrooms can give us a home.  We have had a key all along...not to a house...but to ourselves and in that we just might find "home" after all.

Let the Rain (Sara Bareilles)

     It's been raining.  For days.  For what seems like forever.  I don't mind the rain and my curls quite prefer it.  But it's been too long...and I don't just mean the weather.  May has been a challenging month.  It used to be a favorite that I looked forward to...but turned into a million little painful reminders.
     Yesterday on the way home from work I found myself in the middle of one of the hardest rains I have ever seen.  My wipers could not keep up.  My windows had fogged from the sudden change of temperatures.  I pulled over when I found a safe parking lot to hide in for a second and just sat there.  I was marveling at the sight of the tiny rivers flowing by me into the storm drain.  I watched the huge flowing ripples as trucks drove by.  I listened as the drops hit my "sunroof"...haven't seen that sun so I am calling it my "rainview" now.  As I was doing all of this I realized this song (Let the Rain)  was playing.  I have been listening to Sara Bareilles more than ever lately and each time I do a new lyric hits me.  This song blasting and a girl scared of the roads ahead sat in a parking lot listening and watching the rain. 
     It was a profound moment.  Each word washed over me as the waters washed over my pollen ridden car.  I keep asking for a path from the universe.  I keep asking for my future.  And yet I think it's been trying pretty hard to get my attention all of this time.  It has been.  It's been doing it in overtime.  Shame on me for not properly noticing.  When you miss the whispers...the universe will shout.  It shouted today with a storm that scared me right off of the road and forced me to listen.  It even gave me a soundtrack...
"Let The Rain"

I wish I were pretty
I wish I were brave
If I owned this city
Then I'd make it behave

And if I were fearless
Then I'd speak my truth
And the world would hear this
That's what I wish I'd do, yeah

If my hands could hold them you'd see
I'd take all these secrets in me
And I'd move and mold them to be
Something I'd set free

I want to darken in the skies
Open the floodgates up
I want to change my mind
I want to be enough
I want the water in my eyes
I want to cry until the end of time

I want to let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down tonight

I hold on to worry so tight
It's safe in here right next to my heart
Who now shouts at the top of her voice
Let me go, let me out, this is not my choice

And I always felt it before
That the world was filled with much more
Than the drowning soul I've learned to be
I just need the rain to remind me

I want to darken in the skies
Open the floodgates up
I want to change my mind
I want to be enough
I want the water in my eyes
I want to cry until the end of time

I want to let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down

I want to let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down

I want to let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down
Let the rain come down
Make a brand new ground
Let the rain come down tonight

Gravity (Sara Bareilles)

     Some days are heavier than others.  Today was a day I was grateful to have a big project to distract me.  Those moments of busy keep my brain active and preoccupied.  In the quiet moments that follow the flurry of a busy day come the realities.  The reality that this is all not some crazy dream that I will wake up from.  That the life which I knew for so long is completely different now.  So much unsettled.  So much new.
     The other day I found a cd that I had been wondering about lately.  The first time I ever heard the song Gravity by Sarah Bareilles I remembered thinking it was one of the most amazing songs ever.  Today while driving home the next track of her cd started up and there it was.  My sunroof was a flood of light...hot upon my arms.  The windows were down.  And I sang so loudly that my stomach was slightly sore by the end of the song.  I didn't care who might have heard as a drove down this lightly traveled road from Effort.
     "Something always brings me back to you...it never takes too long".  The song talks about gravity.  It can be anything that holds you down...keeps you back.  Doesn't allow you to move forward or in any direction at all.  When I first heard the song it was while watching a dance show and the choreographer interpreted it as addiction and how it holds you.  We all have something that holds us.  Keeps us.  Chains us.  I am realizing I had more than I thought and I need to set them free.  "Set me free, leave me be...I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity"...more of the lyrics that ask to not be held back.  I sang loudly to remind myself.  I sang loudly because the mixture of wind and sunlight and exhaustion from a good day of hard work made me feel free...even if only for the short time it took to get home.

Circles (Carousel · Sydney Wayser)

     When I go to the amusement park I avoid the spinny rides.  I get dizzy and sick to my stomach.  It goes from there and steals hours of fun as my body tries to undo the damage of the circles.  I have noticed that there are certain circles and cycles to my life.  I am breaking my own as much as I can as quickly as I can and I think I am doing ok.  In fact,  I've been surprising even myself and I can be my own worst enemy.  As I change and adapt yet again to the things around me I am getting frustrated.  At what point will these constant adaptations start to benefit me?  If I grow in ways I thought unimaginable and continue to push myself in places I was well aware were in need of repair...is there not some reward? 
     As a grown up I have learned that no matter how much I want to ride those colorful, loud and fun rides that twist and turn I really can't handle them.  I love the ups and downs of a good roller coaster.  Moments of excitement tucked strategically in pockets of calm.  I like scenic train rides.  There is a track and path to follow and I can enjoy the view.  I like lots of different rides for many different reasons.  But to go in circles...just not my thing.  I have already passed by something once maybe twice...why do it over and over and over?  I will stand in line for the rumbling wild of a wooden coaster.  I will get soaked on the log flume.  I will chase you with wild abandon on the bumper cars.  But please don't ask me to spin in circles because I will have to walk away.  I will find a nice park bench to sit on with my kettle corn as you spin in the circles you can't seem to escape.  I will watch from a distance but I will not get on the ride.

Derailed (Somewhere Only We Know · Keane)

     I have often described the feeling of life being "right" as being on a track.  A train track.  Solid and true.  I can zoom along with a clackety-clack.  But it's been a LONG time since I have felt that way.   Certain decisions that were made a million years ago all seemed right.  Lately, I just feel like I am going nowhere.  There was a chunk of track missing and I derailed.  Now I just wait for the new section of track to make sense of it all again.  I've been dragging in the dirt and gravel too long.
     They say it's not the destination but the journey.  I am starting to wonder about the journey as well.  I am a girl who likes order.  Entropy terrifies me.  Don't get me wrong I love NEW things as you can see by my current challenge to myself and the world around me...but I need a few solid things to ground me.  There is so little that is the same in my life and so much question as to my future that I never really know what to cling to in the moments that I need a little safety and calm.
      Almost every single aspect of my life is unsettled.  I could list it all but it would make me more tired and it's Monday....morning...and I'm supposed to start off the week with a bang, right?  In the meantime, take my word for it.  There is almost nothing that is a set thing.  That is safe.  That is solid.  I can understand a few new challenges but this is getting almost comical.  I am imploring the universe and all of its mightiness to throw me something soon to tether me a bit.  I'm pretty good when I have a goal to shoot for but this is like playing numerous soccer games on eight fields at one time.  Give me something tried and true.  Something unwavering.  A routine to fall into.  A place that is safe and welcoming.   Clear the path.  Lay the track.  Oil the wheels.  Reinforce the metal.  Please get this train running again soon.  She needs a destination.  She can take in the scenery on the way and experience the trip for what it's worth but there has to be a time to hit the next stop.  A place to rest for a moment.  Refuel.   And right now there is all horizon and no track.   
  

Mother's Day reflection (New soul · Yael Naim)

     There is no feeling in the world like the emotions that rush through your body when they tell you are going to be a mother.   You are suddenly in charge of a life.  A life.  A whole life.  There is panic to say the least.  There is gratitude to the heavens.  There is the realization that life will never be the same.  It's not just you anymore...ever. 
     You have to grow up as you grow out.   Books though helpful don't really give you the feeling of confidence you will need.  Sometimes they only make you worry more.  Advice from others...eh, sometimes that gets frustrating.  You hear so many "right" ways that you are left feeling that everything you do will be wrong.  You will be judged if you nurse, don't nurse, use disposable diapers, don't make your own baby food, if you let them cry it out, if you use a family bed, if you drink a glass of wine, any and all things will be scrutinized.  The truth is somewhere amongst the advice, volumes of text and child rearing classes you start to find your own voice.  You start to define your own role as "mother".
     THEN the big day comes.  The one that makes you see more than anything prior to that NOTHING has ever made you feel so brave.  And it is only the beginning.  You turn into the mama lioness protecting her cubs at any and all costs.  You will still worry about the cough that doesn't sound like any other.  You will still panic at the thought of not preparing them for the world and all they will encounter.  A good mom will always put them first. Probably for the rest of their lives.
      There is no bond like it.  There is a moment when they first enter the world that has been merely spinning before them...a moment so profound that the noise becomes silence, your tears rejoice in the gratitude and your heart swells beyond your chest.  It is a moment when you realize this little soul looks up and into you and nothing, no nothing will ever be the same. 
     Moms out there...it doesn't matter if you are the best mom that has ever lived...it just matters to your little one.  For them there is no competition.  Happy Mother's Day.

Saying goodbye (Timshel · Mumford & Sons)

     My therapist told me that once you have said goodbye to someone substantial all other deaths after bring it right back to you.  I guess she was right.  This morning was a rough one.  I headed into my Mom's closet.  I have been avoiding it.  I avoid the room in general.  Unhealthy, I know.  Anyway, I looked for a shirt to borrow.  I think I needed her to be close.  I got ready for church and filled out the envelope with a special blessing for mothers.  I had to write her name and check off the box for "deceased".  I cried during Mass.  The homily was perfect for what I needed to hear this week so it helped.  I am spiritual, not religious...and today the message was simply beautiful and gave me a ton to reflect upon.
    Later on in the day I found out that my best friend is saying goodbye to her aunt.  Hospice is on the way.  I know too much about hospice.  It did indeed bring it all back.  I was sad knowing I couldn't be there to hug them all.  I was frustrated I could not help.  It also made me think of my 3 full days with hospice here at the house.  It is a short yet endless time when you are saying goodbye.  Time is passing in slow motion and on fast forward all at the same time.  It is a delicate time balanced between life and death, pain and healing, selfishness and generosity.  It is like nothing else.
      My Mom spent years begging me to sing for her.  I never would.  Little tidbits here and there maybe.  But I was shy and she had a lovely voice so I did not let it out.   I spent 3 days by her side.  I talked for hours, rambled, read prayers, remembered and reminded.  I also sang.  I sang pretty little songs that filled the air with the notes she had always longed to hear.  I also held her hand.  I told her it was ok to go.  I freed her spirit with forgiveness and prayer and a peaceful calm.  This was one of the songs I played for her.  She was not alone.  She was surrounded by those who loved her so.
     To my dear friend and her amazing cousin and her sweet mother...I am sorry.  I am sorry that you were led to believe that someone had healed only to have it taken away.  It is an injustice we both have felt and it is cruel and unfair.  I am sorry that you did not have a week at the beach to cherish one another one last time.  I am there in spirit holding them all up as their knees weaken and they say their goodbyes.  I only wish I was there in body as well.  My love and thoughts and prayers go to a family that celebrated life in many ways and family was the biggest of them.  And to a Mom that is missed dearly.  May you find one another and walk the beach in search of shells together sometime.