I title this post Leaving Home because my lovely companion and I have left our island home for a short road trip, a 7-hour jaunt southward along Interstate 35 to visit progeny in Kansas City: our two sons and 3-year-old granddaughter.
The title might also refer to our sons, both of whom have (obviously) left home, to build lives of their own in a place considerably distant from the island home of their parents. Whether they remain long in that place, return to Minnesota, or move someplace else, time alone will tell. They have not yet seen their parents' new island home, the place for which the home of their childhoods was forsaken, but it is expected they will visit in the spring or summer. Whatever possessions they had left behind in their parents' house have now been delivered to them, and I suspect they are now spending some time inspecting items long unseen and unmissed, which are perhaps now evoking fond memories of their childhoods and youth.
Most of us leave home at least once in our lives. Some of us, many times. My sister left home when she turned eighteen (by the way, Happy Birthday, Pat!), I left when I was twenty-two, and my brother never left. He died in his bedroom at the age of thirty-six, but that is another story. (See Sunday's post for a little more about my brother's premature departure.)
I do wish our boys were making their own homes a bit closer to ours. But some circumstances are out of our control, and we must make the best of them. Both of them are gradually making homes for themselves, according to their means and lifestyles and preferences, working out their own definitions of what sort of home they would ultimately like to have. I realize that home can mean something different to each of us. The kind of home that makes one person happy might make another miserable. And the kind of home that makes a person happy during one period of his or her life might make that same person miserable during a different period.
I'm very happy with the kind of home that my companion and I have made, and are continuing to make, on Nicollet Island. It perfectly fits the type of people we are during this period of our lives. Our island home is compatible with our lifestyle, our interests, our means, and our goals. It is a small hobbit hole of a home, but it is snug and cozy and a place to which we are happy to return after having been away. How much more can one ask of the place he or she calls home, except that it also be a place where kindness and love abide and prevail, abundantly and consistently? At this time in our lives, we can ask no more. So we visit the children we love, offer them our love and support, enjoy their company, and return to our island home, thankful for a safe journey.
Life flows on, in and around us--we make a home for it as best we can, and when it outgrows that home, we make it another.
D.E.S.
The title might also refer to our sons, both of whom have (obviously) left home, to build lives of their own in a place considerably distant from the island home of their parents. Whether they remain long in that place, return to Minnesota, or move someplace else, time alone will tell. They have not yet seen their parents' new island home, the place for which the home of their childhoods was forsaken, but it is expected they will visit in the spring or summer. Whatever possessions they had left behind in their parents' house have now been delivered to them, and I suspect they are now spending some time inspecting items long unseen and unmissed, which are perhaps now evoking fond memories of their childhoods and youth.
Most of us leave home at least once in our lives. Some of us, many times. My sister left home when she turned eighteen (by the way, Happy Birthday, Pat!), I left when I was twenty-two, and my brother never left. He died in his bedroom at the age of thirty-six, but that is another story. (See Sunday's post for a little more about my brother's premature departure.)
I do wish our boys were making their own homes a bit closer to ours. But some circumstances are out of our control, and we must make the best of them. Both of them are gradually making homes for themselves, according to their means and lifestyles and preferences, working out their own definitions of what sort of home they would ultimately like to have. I realize that home can mean something different to each of us. The kind of home that makes one person happy might make another miserable. And the kind of home that makes a person happy during one period of his or her life might make that same person miserable during a different period.
I'm very happy with the kind of home that my companion and I have made, and are continuing to make, on Nicollet Island. It perfectly fits the type of people we are during this period of our lives. Our island home is compatible with our lifestyle, our interests, our means, and our goals. It is a small hobbit hole of a home, but it is snug and cozy and a place to which we are happy to return after having been away. How much more can one ask of the place he or she calls home, except that it also be a place where kindness and love abide and prevail, abundantly and consistently? At this time in our lives, we can ask no more. So we visit the children we love, offer them our love and support, enjoy their company, and return to our island home, thankful for a safe journey.
Life flows on, in and around us--we make a home for it as best we can, and when it outgrows that home, we make it another.
D.E.S.
Your home sounds very lovely, especially its location. I understand what you mean about children leaving home and making homes of their own. One of mine is 6 hours away and the other much closer; however, it still takes 2 hours by train to get there. It's interesting for me to sit back and watch the homes that they're making evolve and I too, wish we were geographically closer.
ReplyDeleteI've recently begun to use Skype and Face Time more often though, which at least gives one the opportunity to interact on a level that just a few years ago, we were not able to do. As a matter of fact, I just gave a very close friend a tour of my apartment via iPad Face Time!
My goal is to be able to at least video chat with my grandchildren so that we have the opportunity to know each other the way my children know their grandparents...because they were fortunate enough lived around the corner from them when they were growing up. This is as "around the corner" as I can make it, given all our circumstances and where we've each made our new homes. And, it's all good.....