Home, and other things

I think that someone could drop me in the middle of North Carolina, blindfolded, from an airplane (with a parachute, I think), and I would know where I was when I landed. There's something about my home state with its fragrance of dirt and tobacco and pine trees that has a familiarity steeped into my bones. Even though I've lived in Pennsylvania more than twice as long as I did in NC, I don't have that same feeling about this Keystone state, much as I love living here. And for those of you who don't know this state, it's mostly rich farmland anchored by a couple of big cities on either end and a few more moderate-sized ones scattered about. But for me, it doesn't have the same feel or taste of smell as the state in which I grew up, which is a great mystery to me.

While Pennsylvania is my home, it's not really my "home." I'm not talking about some 'home over Jordan' here, either. My home is that place where I belong, and for me, that's wherever Tim and I have put down our roots with the dogs and the cat to round out our family in this place at this time. On my back and forth trips to New Haven, I'll often say that I'm going home when headed north on the NJ Turnpike, but that's not really so. It's just a temporary place to shelter me while I study at YDS, and yet, when Tim is there with me, it is home. The weekend before finals, not only was Tim there but the pups were, too, and it was heavenly, if a bit crowded!

I suppose that all these thoughts of home have bubbled to the surface in the past week or so as I've begun to resettle into my PA home with Tim while also making a trip down to NC to see my 81-year-old mother and my sister and nieces and brother-in-law. There's always a bit of nostalgia in being all grown up amongst one's family. The rules have changed as have the roles, and it just doesn't feel like home anymore. Week after next, I'll be going out to California to see my daughter, Rachel, and even though she and I once called the same place home, being with her where she is won't be home for me, either. It's all very strange.

Now that I am home with Tim and the furry kids with no papers waiting for me and no particular reading to do, I can truly revel in this home that we have created for ourselves, and I realize that it's not so much this house as it is a state of mind. Whoever said 'home is where the heart is' sure knew what s/he was talking about.