Home (blog music: run)

It is now a little over 1 year since I've been home and with each day that passes; I know that I am that much closer to home. Home... where and what is home? Home for me will always be a place I can't define. Sometimes it's a feeling or an idea but always something that isn't solid enough for me to put my feet under. Is it possible to have two homes, room in your heart for both places? Well this is a question I've spent the last year trying to answer. I've learned that your heart becomes so small that there is not enough room for the two. Not small because of sadness or hurt, but because of the overwhelming need to hold onto anything home. The need to remember everything, smells, faces, memories, colors, and voices becomes so great and so big that it fills your heart to the point of bursting. Your heart becomes a place all your own, a special place filled with a million memories. Some for me are irrigating with Papa in the summer evenings, Sunday lunches at Grandmas, the blue bicycle I used to ride all over the farm with Colt, the sunsets in Twin, 4th of July's, my mom, hearing lawn mowers on Saturday mornings, my garden, my best friend Shanna's face, grandma's vanilla ice cream cones when I was little, and the street where my home is. You draw from these memories each day. Some for happiness, some to just get you through the day, and some you try your hardest to go back in time and relive. It can be a good place and a good place to get trapped in. I guess it's inevitable that you do get trapped, maybe even purposefully.
Whatever helps to blind the reality and the senses of where you physically are. The minds a fast and cheap way to travel and I've got a trillion frequent flyer miles. Some days these memories can just simply put a fleeting smile on your face and other days they become your oxygen.
What, in the mean time, is happening to all the memories your making now? The new faces, smells, colors, and voices. Where are they, where are they being held... being remembered? I guess they some how sneak into your heart, you don't notice them making their way in, but they do. Time lets you know that they've been making their way in. Time becomes a catalyst for healing, for growing a bigger heart. So I guess one day you wake up and the tears don't come as easily anymore, your life boat of memories gradually looses air and what you were once drowning in becomes a little easier to swim in. You find that once you let one or two new memories in, that they don't and aren't going to replace any of the ones that are there now. They just find a way to fit in. Once again time reveals to you that your heart has grown a little more. Time has made it bigger, possible to fit these two homes into. What is home though? For me it's where your boys are, the place you live, your husbands face. Home is what you make of it. How you choose, through your daily life, to define it. It's a feeling, a physical certainty. Where is home? Home usually is where you aren't in these cases. The place you grew up, the streets you could walk down blindfolded, the movie trailer of your life, the content of your character. Home is always a place you long to be, your North Star, and sometimes when your over 6 thousand miles away it because an up and coming opportunity. A plane ticket. Home for me, my home, will always be Twin Falls. The one solid place my feet can stand on. Home in Belgium will always be a feeling, an idea. And just as time has helped my heart to grow, I'm pretty sure that time will help my feet too.
See you in November!