Home has been Houston, Texas; Santa Barbara, California; Berkeley, California; and it’s about to be in Maine.
My parents transformed my first home from a one bedroom red-brown bungalow in a city smaller than 10 blocks into an incredible, cozy house for a family of four. That house has been torn down. My happy place used to be my grandfather’s ranch in Conroe, “Little Creek Hollow,” which was an adorable little farm house with a fireplace and a loft with a tiny window looking out on the creek, forest, and cow pasture surrounding it. The trees were cut for lumber, the property was sold, and I’m told the land is now littered with trailer homes instead. My first apartment with my husband was condemned, torn down, and built over. My grandmother’s house, a place of discovery, comforting food, stimulating conversation, and presents, was one of the last places that I still had left from my childhood that I could still return to. It has just been sold to new owners. I feel like my past is being erased behind me the more I move forward.
My parents transformed my first home from a one bedroom red-brown bungalow in a city smaller than 10 blocks into an incredible, cozy house for a family of four. That house has been torn down. My happy place used to be my grandfather’s ranch in Conroe, “Little Creek Hollow,” which was an adorable little farm house with a fireplace and a loft with a tiny window looking out on the creek, forest, and cow pasture surrounding it. The trees were cut for lumber, the property was sold, and I’m told the land is now littered with trailer homes instead. My first apartment with my husband was condemned, torn down, and built over. My grandmother’s house, a place of discovery, comforting food, stimulating conversation, and presents, was one of the last places that I still had left from my childhood that I could still return to. It has just been sold to new owners. I feel like my past is being erased behind me the more I move forward.
So I just described several places, actual physical structures. And you might say, “it’s not the place that matters, it’s the people.” To that I say, a) I think place actually does matter to some extent. And b) yes, you’re right. But I’ve noticed even my facebook newsfeed favors my friends that are local. It is just easier to be in relationship with people that are nearby most of the time. There are plenty of people who really only function this one way. So in a sense, people and place are often inextricable.
Often, the people you love in your life are so tied to place, that as you leave that place, most of those relationships fade. BUT – some of them do not. Some of them actually come alive in a whole new way.
I think I’ve just realized that one thing that knits my identity together, that preserves a sense of home that can not be erased, is the fact that I have dear long distance friends that have been with me through all of these transitions.
For example, take my friend Libby [a faithful commenter on this blog and writer of her own blog].
We’ve been friends since our very early teens. She knew me when I still lived in my little bungalow, she’s been in my grandmother’s house, I got to visit her college dorm multiple times. We went on a double date with our boyfriends who both turned into husbands. She was the one friend around to attend my Texas bridal shower. Our pregnancies overlapped, and I’m right behind her in the journey of having a husband enter academia. We’ve seen each other through many transitions of place and identity. And as much as I am a “different person” today from who I was way back when in the 90’s! I still have Libby for a friend. And that truth does something to unite the pieces of me that have fallen off, gotten erased, and grown throughout that journey. What a dear comfort!
We’ve been friends since our very early teens. She knew me when I still lived in my little bungalow, she’s been in my grandmother’s house, I got to visit her college dorm multiple times. We went on a double date with our boyfriends who both turned into husbands. She was the one friend around to attend my Texas bridal shower. Our pregnancies overlapped, and I’m right behind her in the journey of having a husband enter academia. We’ve seen each other through many transitions of place and identity. And as much as I am a “different person” today from who I was way back when in the 90’s! I still have Libby for a friend. And that truth does something to unite the pieces of me that have fallen off, gotten erased, and grown throughout that journey. What a dear comfort!
Thank goodness Libby is one of a lovely bouquet of such friends. A beautiful arrangement I can bring with me into my new home, where I do not know a soul. This way I can still be comfortable in being me, and be patient for the new friendships to develop and build on who I will become. Thank you Libby. Thank you long distance friends. The more I think on you, the more grateful I am for the essential roles you play in my life!
