Jan. 31st, 2017

deza: (Secret master librarians)
I always envied people who had generations of family in one area. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, seeing the extended family every time you went to the store; I've never had that.

I know where my father is from.
I know where my mother is from.
I can show you the house where my father was born, the cemeteries where my father and all my grandparents are laid to rest.

But me? I'm not from there.
I'm a Navy brat. I grew up all over.

Having that sort of rootless existence as a child changes your perspective. Permanence is a myth, something other people have. There is no family home passed down from the grandparents, no sense of working the land my ancestors worked. There is no one place to go back home to in times of stress. People, maybe, but not places.

You always have to leave.
And the corollary, everybody leaves eventually.

I know, better than most, how dangerous it is to build your home in a person instead of a place. I've done it anyway. Nights like tonight, when he's out of state on a trip, I am all too keenly aware that the guest bedroom we currently sleep in is not my home.

He is.

And I can't wait until my home comes home to me.

LJI entry, done in a hurry to beat the deadline.
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