Where's home?

It’s one of those questions. You know, when someone is trying to make small talk because the two of you just got stranded by the hostess when she spotted another, more interesting, guest. “You two should get to know one another. I bet you have lots in common.” And so, with that onus placed on our shoulders we begin.

Where’s home?

 Oh, you probably never heard of it. Small town in northeastern Pennsylvania.

Oh yeah? I grew up in Kunkletown.

I’m from Kingston.

Well whatta ya know. Small world huh?

Getting smaller by the minute. I think I’ll go get a drink.

Where’s home.
Is it North Jersey where I grew up? Where my sister and her high-school-sweetheart husband still live? Is it NEPA where I’ve lived for the past 43 years? Is it the three dorm apartments, the townhouse, the various houses we’ve lived in on campus? Is it the 120 year old family homestead in the middle of campus that we lived in for 20 years and my husband for his entire life?

Is it the new condo that we spent the last year or so remodeling -tearing out staircases, re-fronting cabinets, repainting and carpeting, adding bathrooms and bedroom, and furnishing?  With the move this past summer, “home” has changed in many ways. For my hubby, no more walking next door to his office to check on the mail or put in a couple of hours on Sunday. He’ll probably still do it, but now it will entail a drive–not a long one–but still a drive.

Patterns need to be rethought. We’ve determined new routes to the gym and Wegman’s. Discovered a couple of neighborhood restaurants. The requests for grandparenting activities may be less last minute–after all we’ll be more than one block away! I had recently said that having a place that is truly ours–decorated in our style, with our collection of artwork from all of our travels, enough electricity not to blow a circuit every time two appliances kick on, an automatic garage door opener (heaven!)–is going to be just wonderful. And it is.

It is our house. Not my in-laws house, not the school’s dorm/townhouse/house. Ours. It will be a place we come back to as we start to check things off the bucket list of retirement. Final four–check. Baseball stadiums across the country–check. Quick runs to Bucknell for football, basketball and events at the Weis Center–check. Napa wine country trips and cruises–check. We’ll always come home and know that things are in the right place. The couches still comfy. The wine cooler full. The books just where we left them.

Where’s home? Right here. Right now.  And it’s wonderful.