I spend this past weekend in the rural Minnesota community I grew up in. I spent some real quality time with my cousin and my grandfather. I did some power shopping and actually found pants that fit me- which is quite a challenge for a 6 foot tall woman.
I had 2 moments on this excursion that I wasn’t expecting or prepared for so I guess I’m still processing them.
The first happened on Saturday night while I was driving past the high school I graduated from on my way to services at my old church. It suddenly really hit me- while this area is a lovely place to visit it’s not “home” anymore. My home is here- with my husband, our cats and the life we are making together. It was a mostly good feeling but a little melancholy too.
The second moment came while I was visiting with my grandfather. We talked for some time about my grandmother who passed away in 2007. Grandpa said that the two of them “were a good team” and I couldn’t agree with him more. They met as children- they went to the same church- and were married for 64 years. The last few years were tough as we all watched Grandma slowly leave us as a result of dementia but long after she’d forgotten everyone else she knew who “Father” (her name for him) was. It was the first time he and I had really talked about her since she passed and I was really taken aback by the amount of emotion Grandpa displayed talking about her. It was obvious what a great life and great love they had together. I was actually a little choked up when I left his house to start the 2 hour drive back home.
I guess home really is where the heart is. And I am so happy to have a home, even if it isn’t exactly where I thought it would be.