Going Home

I spent a little time in my childhood home this morning. An appointment with the county water authority found me spending several hours in the little house where my sisters and I grew up. Although I'd taken along some things to keep me busy, I found myself instead wandering the rooms, moving a few pieces of furniture (there are a few left), and wiping down dusty surfaces.

My sisters are ready to sell the house and move on. James and I are not so eager to let it go. With the advent of adulthood, most of our seven children have moved out of our home and away from the farm. (It's an animal-less farm...) Keeping up with 3½ acres, 3 barns, and a house is a big job even with help. Without our kids it will eventually be nigh unto impossible. One day we will be looking to downsize, and probably in the not-too-distant future.

Mom has been on my heart often lately and the day of her passing wants to play itself over in my mind. From the beginning I have either pushed the memories away or stuffed them back inside, refusing to let the pain surface and the tears flow. I endured that morning without the support of close family members. Strangers came and attempted to revive the empty shell that once held my mother's soul, but she had already taken wing and flown away. They couldn't bring her back and she wouldn't have wanted them to. I didn't really want that either. Besides, God had just spent several days getting us ready to say goodbye.

I have a hard time releasing. I have a difficult time with change. I desperately want to live in two separate places, here in the house I have called home for the past 13 years and in a little house on Mohawk Street where I was once a little girl. This is a feat which is impossible. I'm not quite ready to let go of either home, though I am trying. *sigh* Maybe we could keep Mom and Dad's house and call it "The Cottage".

PS. That's my dad's old rocking chair. I think I love it.
:0)