The prompt for this week's write is the word "Home". Sounds easy. I find it to be anything but. I'm having a hard time with that word but must admit, it has gotten me through some sleepless moments over the
past few nights.
I used it as a mantra for meditations that I counted on for a return to sleep.
The opportunities were boundless. Home improvement, home schooling, home equity, home maker, home base, home grown, home goods, home style, home land, home made, home page, home fries, home owner, home fires, home life, home plate, home cooking, home spun, home body, home plate, home, home on the range. You get it. There are a gazillion more but I'll hold onto that fact and perhaps use it again when I am up in the middle of the night thinking about my safety and security again. Maybe I'll meditate on a quest to discover why so many of my "homes" are attached to words like "life, plate, cooking, fires, base and maker". These came to me in a flash. I had to sit and think of others while writing this today and it was taxing, so I stopped.
I'm just not sure what and where home is to me or even what I would answer were I asked, "So, Lynn, where do you call home?" It's probably best that I never become a contestant on The Wheel of Fortune lest I make a total fool out of myself and Pat Sajak for having asked that simple question. I suppose the answer would and should be "Pat, I'm a New Yorker", and then I would need the next five minutes to drive home my point......bagels, lox, cream cheese, the Yankees, the Bronx, uptown, downtown, subways, taxis, pretzels with mustard, hot dogs from carts on the corner, the fruit man who doesn't want my pennies, sidewalks, beeping horns, marriage proposals from strangers on street corners, buskers, busking on subway platforms, buskers on the street, buskers in Grand Central Station. Grand Central Station!!!! Home is where the heart is.
I'm feeling conflicted and confused. The Winter wraps are finally coming off. I knew where I had to be last season. I was stuck and I missed my life. I need it back. We're looking for a new house now, waiting to find just the right one before lease-renewal time is here. We're racing against other people who are emerging from their own Winter cocoons and the idea of spending twenty minutes in a house that has a For Sale sign on its front lawn, and making a decision so huge, is scaring me to death. I'm not sure that I will ever be able to refer to a house as a "home". I don't think I have it in me. But I do have the fireplace and I do have the table and the chairs and wherever I go, they go and whoever sits at that table will define what it is that I call home, if only for that time they are there.