Going Home

I’ve been married for 15 years and Tim and I have lived in four dwellings we’ve called home…an apartment for a year, our first house in Crete, the second one in Lincoln and the current one in Eagle. I’ve referred to each of them as “home” when I talk about going there. Now our current house is just home for nine of us. It is where my kids call home, where we’re headed when we’ve been gone on vacation or just from a day out. Considering all of this, for some reason I still refer to a trip to my parent’s house in Scottsbluff as going home.

I find comfort in pulling in the driveway…entering the town of Scottsbluff actually. It has little to do with memories from high school or the town itself, and more to do with memories of childhood related to family. It’s the same as any memory…completely associated to smell, sight, sound, feel. I love the dry heat in the summer…the way the air is chilly at night, the smell of sugar beets being processed, Mexican food everywhere you look, the slower pace of a small town and the two-finger farmer wave from total strangers who share the rural roads with you. Home in Scottsbluff isn’t even where I spent most of my time…I only lived there for a year before going away to college…six summers before getting married, but it is where I lived before I left home, so it is home when I return there.

“Home” in Scottsbluff means sharing what I love with those that I love…both ways…sharing my children and their stages with my parents and grandparents and sharing my parents and grandparents and much that I grew up having or doing with my children and my husband too. They (kids and husband) learn to be in the fields, to ride horses, check cattle, fix and build things. When we’re there, our schedule is more of a vacation schedule, so we don’t have 100 places to be and things to do. We can just “be”. My extended family gets to see growing children with evolving manners, vocabularies, talents and skills. They get to show and teach many of the things that they’ve previously shown and taught me years ago. We have conversations about memories, plans both current and future and life. There are differences of opinions but the common theme is always love of family. I love for those who are close to me to know those who are close to me. I’m always sad to leave. It would often be easy for days to stretch into weeks and I wouldn’t feel like I was really missing much elsewhere when I’m threre.

All of this being said, it is always nice to return home…the home that belongs to nine of us. This home will always welcome anyone who comes to stay as if it is their own home too. It is true that the home is where the heart is. My heart definitely shares two places...the place where love has always been known by me and the place where new love began and continues.