This was a hard long weekend. I helped my in-laws pack up
their house for selling. I don't think they know what their home has meant to
me. Before this makes sense you need to understand a couple of things. One, I'm a romantic and a dreamer. My head never turns off. Two, I was raised in a 12 x 68
house trailer. My Mom and Dad gave us a wonderful childhood and going home to
this day means a trip to their house in Iowa even though they bought a new,
larger house my freshman year in college. And honestly I don't ever remember wishing
for my own room (just as my sisters shared a tiny bedroom so did my brother and
I). But growing up in those small quarters as a child left me dreaming of a
home that I would own someday where my siblings and their families could come
together for Christmas (my favorite holiday). In 1996, my partner J walked into
my life and I quickly found that his parents were much like my parents and made
Christmas a big deal. It was a time of family and traditions. And they had the
house to match! Lots of room to spread out for the whole family, a fireplace
and his Mom and Dad always had everything magically decorated. Even at times
other than Christmas over the last 17 years this has become my home away from
home. As I reflect on it I think the house has become a symbol for the role J’s
family has played in my life. They are very different than my family but
equally wonderful. I look to how they live their lives often for guidance. So
while it was a sad day today driving away from their house I'm very excited for
them as they embark on a new journey, one they've dreamt of for many years. And
selfishly, I hope it means that it means we will be spending more time
together.
