Feels Like Home

While Ron and I were dining out last night, we were chatting with a man at the table next to us. He asked where we were from. When we hesitated and looked at each other, he said, “Where do you live now?” That, we could easily answer. As to where we are from… I grew up in Maryland, but am most recently from Chicago. We’ve also lived in Dallas, Las Vegas, and Memphis. Prescott, Arizona is home now.

"Home is Where the Heart Is”. If that’s true, I have multiple places to call Home, where I have strewn pieces of my heart. Home is a place you look forward to getting back to when you are away. Your pulse quickens when you fly over, or round a corner in the neighborhood. Thoughts linger there, replaying vivid memories.

 

Yes, Prescott is home now. Our house and our belongings are there. Our friends and community are there. But my heart still sings when I arrive in Chicago. I have history there, as does my father’s family. It’s where Ron and I started our retirement. I can walk through the neighborhood, past the block where my grandfather’s furrier store used to be. When I go to Wrigley Field, I think about Dad attending games there as a kid. I became an adult while attending Northwestern University in adjacent Evanston. I “get” Chicago, and I will always love it in a visceral way.

Mom’s home in Manchester, New Hampshire is also my home. The knotty pine paneling, the jays cawing in the trees, and the tiny, homey kitchen – all Home. Mom’s grandfather, parents, and brother built the house with love, and it oozes from every seam. I’m always happy there.

Ron’s family recently sold the farm and home place in Melvin, Illinois. We haven’t been back since. It felt like Home and an emotional touchstone for years. There are generations of history there, and so many memories of family gatherings. It was hard to let go. The feeling of home-ness in Melvin will fade over time, because we don’t belong there any longer.

Everyone should have at least one place to call Home. If you have more, you are blessed.

Emotional Vertigo

Ron and I arrived back at home in Prescott late yesterday afternoon.  I’m suffering a little separation anxiety after spending so much time with Mom during her recovery from heart surgery.  While in New Hampshire, there were several mornings where I felt a little vertigo – a sensation of whirling or tilting that affected my balance.  It seemed to be caused by some sinus drainage settling in my ear, but I think it was exacerbated by my emotional condition.

What could have caused me to suffer what I am calling emotional vertigo? 

Photo by Althea Haropulos
(manipulation by Laurel)

• Gnawing concern and lingering fears about Mom’s progress after surgery
• Insidious beeps and shrieking alarms ever-present in the hospital and nursing home
• Grinding exhaustion from sleeping with one ear at alert for signs of distress 
• A less than optimum diet, and fractured sleep
• Empathy for Mom’s frustration and discomfort
• Guilt that my ability to be there full-time would draw to a close

After almost four weeks, Mom’s condition improved to a point where we felt she would benefit from a return to normalcy in her life.  We had done what we could do during our stay, and it was time to go home.

During the first night at home in our own bed, I still had issues… Waking to think I should walk down the hallway to check on Mom, and trying to recall the schedule for the next day – visiting nurse, therapist, and medical technician.  What might tempt Mom’s appetite for lunch?  Oh wait; I’m at home in Prescott.

Thank goodness that Althea and Jason are there to continue to help Mom through her healing and return to her cherished everyday life.  I'll do what I can from a distance.

Me?  I’m treating my emotional vertigo with doses of my own normalcy – long, deep breaths of our desert mountain air, gazes across the familiar landscape, dinner and conversation with friends last night, the comfort of our own bed, and plans to golf with the girls this afternoon.

The Healing Comfort of Home

We become more attached to our routine and appreciative of the comfort of our own home as the years pass.  I enjoy travel and having some newness in my life, but there is never anything better than coming home.  The familiarity of everything soothes me - from the view out the windows to my comfortable bed to having my "stuff" around me.  I've been away now for almost a month, and I truly miss our home, our friends, and our routine.

Two weeks ago, Mom had her open heart surgery and valve replacement.  Just yesterday she escaped the hospital, and all its noise, interruptions, and sterility of atmosphere.  She has one more stop before home, staying for about a week in a skilled care facility.  Here we hope Mom will eat better and get the physical therapy and rest she needs to regain her strength.  But I'm convinced the most rapid progress of her healing will take place in her own home.

At our family home, affectionately referred to as "1070" (part of the address), Mom will be able to recapture the comfort and serenity I know she craves.  She can make breakfast in her own little kitchen, do the daily puzzles in the Manchester Union Leader, and enjoy watching Fall wind down outside her bedroom window.  Once again, Mom will enjoy the privacy of her own bathroom and the relief of sleeping in the bed she shared with my father for so many years.  Meals will be served on her schedule, and be comprised of her favorite items.  With all this, and her favorite people and things around her, she will heal and thrive.

So, 1070, get ready to welcome Mom home.  She needs you.

Unpacking Life

It’s been almost six weeks since we arrived back in Prescott and slowly starting unpacking and reorganizing our home. Unpacking is a messy business. Of course, there is all the packing material that has to be disposed of – but it’s more than that. The process is emotional; for me anyway.

Working on the "Family Wall"

Cookware and glassware has to find the appropriate cabinet for its function and frequency of use. Each piece of artwork is deserving of the right place to be featured. Certain favorite family photos need to rest somewhere where my gaze can trip on them frequently. Decorative items will eventually find the right tabletop, dresser, or mantle from which they will enhance their surroundings and stir our memories. These decisions require time and thought. Each time I find the right place for something, I have a little “Eureka!” moment in my heart.

It’s not about the stuff…not really. What it is about is making a house our home for the long term. Ron and I plan to live in our Talking Rock home longer than we have lived elsewhere during our married life; maybe longer than either of us has lived anywhere. So it has to be comfortable. It has to be right. It will reflect who we are, and how we live. (Crap – no wonder I stress about this!)

Over time, changes will surely be made. We already have a few projects in mind for next year (to expand the back patio and add some shelves and lighting to the fireplace/entertainment wall). I can’t even think about that right now. Overload.

Today we’ll continue to churn through the boxes, bubble-wrap, and paper. Ron’s brother and sister-in-law arrive for a visit next week. They’ll still be a few boxes stored in the garage, but we’ll be in good shape for company and are excited that Tim and Emily will be able to experience how we live and see the home we have created.

Back to work!

Embraced by the Family Home

Yesterday Ron and I arrived for a visit at Mom’s home in Manchester, NH. This is a very special place. To the casual observer, it’s just a modest mid-century ranch-style house. To us, “1070” is a family treasure.

The house was built in 1952 by Mom’s parents, Barbara and Frank Roberts. Along with help from my Uncle Jerry and Barbara’s carpenter father Carroll Powers, they turned their long-time dream of owning a home into reality. Board by board and shingle by shingle, they created a home full of love and happiness. Over time, it became a magnet for friends and family – both unscheduled drop-ins and planned vacations.

When we were kids, many of our vacations were spent as guests at 1070. The four of us slept on cots in the basement. It was a little creepy, so we compensated by telling stories and giggling ourselves to sleep. In the morning, Grammie would make biscuits from scratch. Grampa would play the organ full blast, we would collect acorns from the yard, Grammie would weave charming stories about fairies in her garden, and assorted extended family would pop in for visits. It was always wonderful. There are many, many memories ingrained into the walls of this home. The spirits of Frank and Barbara are here.

Today, Mom and my sister Althea share the home. Our parents expanded it in the early 90’s, converting part of the basement into a family room with a fireplace, adding a master suite, and renovating the kitchen. But the bones of the original house are intact…the exterior that blends into the wooded lot, the wide, golden pine paneling in the living room and all the way down the hall, and the beautiful windows that welcome in the sunlight and cool breezes.

I’ll always feel at home here.

1070 Living Room.
(photo by Althea Haropulos)

Project Management Drill

Now that we’ve gone and purchased another home, we have a lot of planning and re-planning to do. Our original retirement blueprint had us selling the condo and buying a new home in 2013. Now we are going to own 2 homes for about 2 years, so we have substantially jostled the financial apple cart. It’s all manageable – just a matter of timing and adjusting cash flow – but our decision created some work for Ron and our financial advisor.

My head is spinning with the logistics of setting up a new household without dismantling our current one. But it’s not unlike what we did when we purchased the condo while still owning the home in Memphis. After we closed in Chicago, we “camped out” here for a week. We slept on an air mattress, used paper plates and plastic utensils, and had a folding table and chairs. It was almost like setting up house for the first time after college, except this time we had money! Much of the furniture we had in Memphis wouldn’t work for Chicago, so we bought a lot of new things to establish our smaller, urban home.

The Prescott situation is different in some ways. We’ll want to use quite a few of our Chicago belongings in Arizona. In my mind, I’m already shopping and decorating, and trying to figure out what our “camping out” period in Prescott will entail over the coming months. Here are some of the things clanging around noisily in my head:

• We’ll need a new sofa, because the one in Chicago is too small for the great room in Prescott. Besides, we need something to sit on when we’re there.
• Although we’ll sleep on an air mattress at first, we need to shop for a bed for the master bedroom. Our current master bedroom furniture will eventually be the guest room suite.
• A few essentials need to be shipped ahead of us, including the air mattress and bedding.
• I’m making shopping lists for things like towels, dishes, utensils, glasses, cleaning materials, etc.
• Some clothes will travel with us and stay in Prescott, streamlining packing for future trips.
• I must call and put the utilities in our names.
• We need cell phones that work there (AT&T doesn’t have coverage on the fringes of Prescott).
• Our car (we only have one) will relocate to Prescott, to eliminate the expense of parking in Chicago. Now we need a plan for getting from PHX Sky Harbor Airport to Prescott when we visit…

It goes on and on. I am equipped with a brand new spiral-bound notebook, a fresh yellow highlighter, and project management skills. Who needs Microsoft Project?!

There's No Place Like Home

I’ve written a few blogs with some of the details from our trip to the Mediterranean, but in the midst of the holiday season I feel compelled to write about the joys of just being home. Regardless of where we travel, there is always a deep satisfaction in returning home. We were away for over two weeks at the end of October/beginning of November, leaving for another week away to celebrate Thanksgiving with a friend. As much as I enjoyed both of these trips, I breathed a deep sigh of relief as we crossed the threshold of our little condo on Bittersweet Place. We’ll spend Christmas and New Years here, luxuriating in our personal traditions, in full nesting mode.

For me, the pleasure of being home is found in simple routine. I like taking a hot bubble bath on a really cold day, raiding our own refrigerator for healthy snacks, monitoring my connection to friends on Facebook, choosing to dress in sweats or fleece because I know I’m not going out today, or venturing out into the neighborhood to run errands. I revel in enjoying what Chicago has to offer. Every time I take public transportation (the el or the bus), I am impressed by how well it works, and how ingrained it is into the fabric of the city. It’s an important part of the “City That Works”.

Granted; a big part of how we are able to enjoy life at home can be credited to being retired. One of our favorite things to do is to pour an after-5 glass of wine and sit in the front room to watch the neighborhood come home from work. In other words, we’re still wallowing in the pleasure of being strategically unemployed. When people express surprise that we would tolerate the harsh winters of the frozen north by choice, our answer is that if it’s bad outside we just stay home. If the streets are icy, we don’t take the car out; we take the el.

So for now, we have no travel plans. My brother, Jason, will be joining us to celebrate Christmas in Chicago. The tree is trimmed and the fireplace is keeping us warm and cheerful. Sometimes, there’s just no place like home.