Finding home

Four months in our newly adopted state of Virginia, I find myself in a mellow limbo like the wonder of an anticipated snowfall. Excited to begin a new chapter in our Mid-Atlantic lives while nostalgic and missing what was home.

Maybe it's the Jonas effect. 

I haven't stepped foot inside my mother's home for any kind of intentional quality time since my Dad died a little over seven years ago. My Dad's ashes sit on a mantle in the livingroom. I have no desire to sit in my mom's livingroom. Too painful to relive waiting for my Dad to die at home. Too harrowing to come to terms with the hardships of my parents' marriage. Truthfully, it was never home since we moved there after my sophomore year in high school. Home was growing up along Lincoln Park (though the proximity of Liberty State Park had its advantages too). 

Thankfully I am left with memories of my childhood, most of them happy, and I am grateful for the generous life that my parents worked so hard to give me -- from my Jersey City roots to my coming of age in New Brunswick and Manhattan and to growing from a family of two to three along the bayshore. 

So many memories can make home where the heart is. 

Sort of. Living along the Jersey bayshore was home -- our strolls along the fishing pier, weekend runs to the fishery, summer whiffs of bunker and shrimp. While boxes currently remain halfway or unopened in the basement of our rental, much of which just needs to be donated or thrown away, I look forward to finding our permanent NoVA home and settling in, where N. will make her own memories of family, school and adventures and together, we will create a home where once we walk in, aromas will be familiar, tastes will be homespun, and scenes will be heart-stirring. 

Until then, I trustily sit with where the Universe has led us as we wander along these Virginia roads, discover the gems in our new surroundings, and appreciate the awesome quest towards finding home.