;)
Monday
Nov022009
You're My Home
Monday, November 2, 2009 at 7:11AM
I left you three years ago. In a cloud of righteous indignation, I packed my possessions into a van and my children onto an airplane and with that, I was gone. I never said goodbye to you, and I didn't much care.
My entire world changed when I left you. I saw things, I learned things, that people like me, people from the slums of southeast Philadelphia, seldom know exist. I learned that there is magesty in this world beyond that which I could ever dream or measure. I realized that there is, indeed, a life beyond the borders you'd provided me and I'd accepted without consideration. I loved like I thought I never would, I reveled in the beauty of the life that had always laid just beyond my fingertips, I reached out to the world and it swallowed me whole.
The core of the person that I am has changed in these three years without you.
I dared to allow myself to dream of a life beyond your tumultuous shores. I'd seen the height of you and the breadth of you and depth of you and I still wanted more. I just didn't want it from you anymore. Your peaks and your valleys proved to much for me to bear in the end, our shared history haunted me, our commonalities grew to frightening, and I began to care about you more than I am comfortable caring about anything in this life.
So I left you one sunny summer day with a plane ticket in my hand and your sons and daughters in my arms and I fully intended to stay gone forever.
Things in life seldom work out the way I plan for them to.
The past few weeks have been a blur of sorting my life into neat, little columns. I've made detailed spreadsheets and official phone calls. I cut my hair off and everything close to my heart out. I turned the treble down and the volume up and sought asylum in the bottom of a bass line, just so I could feel. I did the things I always do when everything I ever wanted is yanked out from under my feet, which happens more often in this life than I care to admit.
And I sit here this morning, typing with torn, chewed fingertips, reconciling myself to the fact that maybe, sometimes, I just want the wrong things and that you are where I am meant to be, for better or worse, for richer or poorer. I have come back home to you, to the very heart of you, your sons and daughters beside me. We are ready for you. We only hope you are ready for us, too.
My entire world changed when I left you. I saw things, I learned things, that people like me, people from the slums of southeast Philadelphia, seldom know exist. I learned that there is magesty in this world beyond that which I could ever dream or measure. I realized that there is, indeed, a life beyond the borders you'd provided me and I'd accepted without consideration. I loved like I thought I never would, I reveled in the beauty of the life that had always laid just beyond my fingertips, I reached out to the world and it swallowed me whole.
The core of the person that I am has changed in these three years without you.
I dared to allow myself to dream of a life beyond your tumultuous shores. I'd seen the height of you and the breadth of you and depth of you and I still wanted more. I just didn't want it from you anymore. Your peaks and your valleys proved to much for me to bear in the end, our shared history haunted me, our commonalities grew to frightening, and I began to care about you more than I am comfortable caring about anything in this life.
So I left you one sunny summer day with a plane ticket in my hand and your sons and daughters in my arms and I fully intended to stay gone forever.
Things in life seldom work out the way I plan for them to.
The past few weeks have been a blur of sorting my life into neat, little columns. I've made detailed spreadsheets and official phone calls. I cut my hair off and everything close to my heart out. I turned the treble down and the volume up and sought asylum in the bottom of a bass line, just so I could feel. I did the things I always do when everything I ever wanted is yanked out from under my feet, which happens more often in this life than I care to admit.
And I sit here this morning, typing with torn, chewed fingertips, reconciling myself to the fact that maybe, sometimes, I just want the wrong things and that you are where I am meant to be, for better or worse, for richer or poorer. I have come back home to you, to the very heart of you, your sons and daughters beside me. We are ready for you. We only hope you are ready for us, too.
Reader Comments (83)
While I'm sad for you that you're leaving your home, I'm happy that you'll be closer to me. See? Silver lining!
I'm with Adam.
Beautifully written, love.
welcome home
Being a thick Brit, I don't get what you are saying!
Yes! Welcome home.
Well, I suspect there are those who are on the inside of this story who know what the flibflab Mr. Lady is talking about, other than she is apparently moving, and I am guessing to somewhere in the US. So YAY for the US and YAY for Mr. Lady and family.
Heading south before the winter holds time solid, seems like a good primal move, which usually means you are on the right track.
Welcome back home! If I may say, good choice with the moving company. I work for a United Agent in Alabama.
Much love, yo!
Your writing almost always blows me away.
Welcome back. I hope this means I get to see you more often.
xo
god woman, i just want to hug you and make everything ok.
xo
b.
Canada will miss you!
Please tell me we'll still be able to find you here at least. I've been lurking around your blog for so long now, I'd totally miss you if you left my country *and* my feed reader...!
and just when i was getting ready to connect with you again. i'm planning to be in van at the end of this month! ugh...
very happy for you but also so sad also that i will probably never have an opportunity to see you again ... mr. lady.
you were the closest i've ever gotten to having a lesbian lover.
Damn you America for stealing my best friend out of Canada and back into America's waiting arms.
Damn you for moving so far away from me after stealing my heart.
welcome back, love.
I'm so sorry you're dealing with this.
Fuck.
If you ever find yourself down in the fake-deep-south aka Florida, my family will welcome you with open arms and a cold beer.
Love you.
Welcome back!
And much love.
Everything seems to happen for a reason. I've realized that now.
I feel like I need to mail you a big box of American flags or something. Welcome back!
I cry.
I love you.
So....California??
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
You're on loan.
Welcome back. The slums of Philadelphia have missed you. Though, I never knew you were here.
I needed something to brighten up this abysmal day.
Have reread 10 times and read tweets from redneckmom and get you are leaving, but with the kids and husband?
I'm so sorry you've had to leave. Canada just won't be the same without you! :(
Open arms and open heart.
Vancouver will miss you. I will miss you, but am so glad I got to meet you, even if it was only once.
Best of luck to you, all my love to you, and every bit of hope coming your way.
Wow -
First off your writing *ALWAYS* brings tears.
Secondly, assuming that your destination isn't the slums of Philadelphia again...where-r-you landing this time?
We've moved across the US so many times my Piano has more miles on it than my car, but we've finally settled in a little crap town in Northern Virginia - I don't know what I would do if I had to leave.
Good luck in your travels. Keep us posted.
Can't wait to hear of all the adventures you'll be having. Moving is a gold mine of blog-fodder. Hope all goes well!
Hey, glad to have you back. Sorry you keep being moved.
I wish I'd taken an extra moment to hug you one more time. I'll miss knowing that you were near by, but I'll keep coming here so you'll close. Damn you Mr. Lady for making me weepy at work. I'll misss you much!
Are you coming back to Colorado?
In Blog We Trust:: You're My Home http://bit.ly/4cpy63
I'm happy I can spend the money we save on flying you from Canada on more productive things, like booze. Welcome back!
I'm just catching up on bloggity bizness and have to say this made me cry! I hope you and the fam are ok. And I'm selfishly sad you're leaving us. I was just getting round to mentally planning another get together for us Vancouver peeps! Stay well! xoxo
so that's what that disturbance in the force was :)
welcome back.
It's all that crappy, Canadian healthcare right? That's why you're leaving? I KNEW it! ;)
I'm so excited. Welcome home. America missed you.
Damn it, there goes my nefarous scheme to fly to canada and get good drugs. Thanks a lot. :) Love you anyway.
@raino, Ahem. Raino. I totally bat for both teams.
*Please let it be Ohio* *Please let it be Ohio* *Please let it be Ohio"
A girl can dream, can't she?
Last night it was really real when Zoë asked if she could play with 3 of 3 today and I was all, "nope, babe. She's in her _______ home. We'd need a passport and about two grand for that kind of playdate. And a lot of snacks." Le Grand Sigh.
(have you forgotten French already?)
Beautifully written and unfathomable in it's complexity. Good luck with your move and starting a new life with old and familiar elements.
Welcome back, kiddo. Maybe things can really get back to normal around here for awhile.
I MISS YOU!! I'm glad we got to have some playdates in there before the man booted you. If they ever let you back up here for a visit lemme know, I'll walk by the table you're eating dinner at in a resaurant and say "haaaaaaaaaay!"
we will be forever richer for your return ...
I know it must be hard making the transition again, but I hope there's a bittersweetness from how many of us welcome you back!
P.S. Missouri (Misery) likes company
All the best. Hope things work out like you hope from here on in.
Whiskey in My Sippy Cup : Surviving Parenting. Kinda. » You're My Home http://bit.ly/2t1X3f