As we step further into October and all hopes of an extended summer that September sometimes holds fastly falls behind us, I find myself ready to curl up on my couch with a warm cup of tea and read a good book.
I am ready to sink into fall, to embrace that feeling of cozy that falling leaves brings to our doorsteps.
But as I sit on my couch, I can’t help but find myself lacking the cozy feeling.
Enter Fall
The whirlwind of summer kept me busy just enough to not worry extensively about the long term future — thoughts instead tended to focus on the very short term: thinking only a couple of days ahead on the various projects and out-of-town travel that also consumed my time.
Rather than worrying about the future, I allowed myself to escape the unknowing abyss ahead and focus my time and energy on keeping my vegetables and flowers watered to withstand the blazing summer temperatures, or perhaps worrying about what to make for dinner when triple digit numbers made it obvious that cooking wasn’t an option.
But as I sit here on my couch and enjoy the cooler temperatures and rhythmic rain falling on the roof and occasionally hitting the dining room window in the next room over, I can’t help but feel that the rush of summer is once and for all over and the calmness of autumn has arrived
Not that the fall season doesn’t come with its own lengthy to-do list. But there is something calming and reassuring about the season of fall.
In summer, there exists a constant apprehension as well as excitement at all the unknowns. Will we get any rain? Will we have triple digits for six days or six weeks? Will my garden produce well this year? Will we ever get a chance to slip away for a brief vacation? — enjoy the mountains and pine trees, enjoy a cool swim in the lake?
Will we get any sleep tonight, or will we be up all night pulling a side job, or perhaps just too uncomfortably hot to keep our eyes closed? Will the mosquitos eat us alive again this year or can we expect a reprieve?
The ups and downs of summer are frequent and fast changing.
I think just about everything about summer is fast. And then, before we know it, summer is over. Just. Like. That.
But despite our wish that summer could last just a little while longer, autumn comes.
The leaves change colors and eventually fall. Rakes get to work, heavy jackets are dug from the closet, and the smell of pumpkin everything and anything starts wafting from the kitchen.
Temperatures get colder and colder. And as temperatures drop, that feeling of putting things in order increases.
Perhaps it is the natural instinct to prepare for winter that plunges down that feeling of home. That feeling to be cozy –- to feel like you are right where you want to be, and right where you belong to be.
And for those of us without a long-term home who find ourselves living in that transitional place, that plunge is a slap-in-the face reminder that where we want to be is not at all where we are.
Finding Home
So where do we find it?
I feel like this question could be talked at all day. Many late night bathroom conversations have been held between my husband and I, all of them discussing the various questions of where are we going to live, where do we want to go, what are we going to do for a job, what type of home will our next house be, and how will we ever afford to buy a house of our own?.
But I think in truth, and I must admit this truth is hard for me to admit at times, that the “it” we’re all trying to find is likely not a place.
It’s not that perfect house with the blue shutters, or the fifty-acre piece of property with mountain views, or the small town with four seasons.
The “it” we’re all seeking to find is that feeling of belonging.
That journey we’re all trudging along our own separate paths, not knowing where the path will lead or when the journey will end. I believe the purpose of that journey is to finally find that feeling of “we’re here. This is it.”
Some people have probably already found that place, or perhaps felt that feeling about where they’re currently at, but that feeling has faded and they once again have an internal inkling that it’s time to move on and find a new place.
Or, like my husband and I, you find yourself with lots of houses lived in, towns lived in, jobs done, and experiences under your belt, and you wonder how many more houses, towns, jobs, and experiences you must hurtle through before you’ll finally make it.
Before you’ll finally make it to that place where you can be, and be for a long time. Perhaps forever.
Getting There
Having the dream is easy.
Even toning down all the whimsical thinking into a very practical image of what you want your future home to be can be easily managed.
The getting there is the hard part.
Whether the place you are after is simply a place to be, a place to live, or a place to build up in order to accomplish other dreams, getting there is something many of us are still working towards.
The getting there is the hard part.
Unlike so many elderly or middle-aged individuals, I am not full of hopeful words. I cannot give encouragement to keep plugging along because you’ll eventually get there. People who have experienced the struggle of their own — who have achieved their dream of finding a home and now offer advice to us still riding the struggle bus – often offer encouraging comments and even impatience at my impatient attitude to get there.
They’ve been there. They have ridden their own vehicle of struggles in search to own a place to call their home, and now they are moved on to other life challenges.
But as someone still on that school bus of struggles, who is waiting for their stop to come, it seems hard to constantly think positive when you feel like that place of ultimate comfort eludes your life.
"Will we ever have a home?" I frequently find myself wondering this very question.
And not just the brick and mortar, wood frames, and windows. But I wonder at what point we can enjoy life.
At what point in our lives can we invest in a new vehicle rather than driving older vehicles patched together to keep running in an attempt to save our money … money for a house.
At what point can we buy some newer furniture, appliances, and tools (not brand new, just new to us)? At what point can we indulge ourselves and have those things that we say “someday, we’ll have that.”?
When will “someday” finally get here?
These are just some of the questions that flood my mind as my brain frantically searches for that place of comfort and home.
I have grown accustomed to scrimping and saving, holding out, waiting and waiting for that opportunity – that chance to leap at – for the timing to be right to buy a place that will become home.
And despite the years of hoping and waiting and reminding myself to be patient, there seems to be something about this season of fall that leaves me aching for a place of my own that can be my home.
A place where I know I can be the next year and the year after.
Wishful Thinking
Perhaps it is the cooler temperatures, that desire to light a fire, turn on some autumn jazz, and read by candlelight while the world blows cold around me, that bring on these wishful thoughts of home.
And it seems these desires only increase as we move closer and closer to Christmas.
That desire to be home for the holidays.
For me, I believe much of that longing comes from a desire to build habits and traditions. Some of which can be dependent on location. Habits, traditions, and repetition that help me feel comfortable and safe in knowing what activities are just around the corner.
Everyone enjoys a mystery every now and then, but I frequently wish the rest of my life wasn’t still a complete mystery.
You are not alone.
I think for all individuals, couples, and families out there who find themselves aspiring for home, there is comfort in knowing you are not alone.
Because you’re not alone. There’s quite of few of us still wishing for and searching for home.
And that understanding that others know exactly how you feel — they understand the time and energy spent in hoping and wishing that life circumstances would line up to allow you that opportunity to find a place of belonging; that you could find a place to settle, to raise your children, to become part of a community, and to feel that feeling of peace wash over you every time you enter through the doors of your home.
Many of us understand the hope. And we understand the disappointment. Even the repetitive disappointment.
But the dreaming doesn’t stop. The dreaming can’t stop. Whether you are wishing for home during this fall time of year, or during any other season, our hopes, dreams, and wishes of finding home continue together. And that wishful dream is a good thing.
Afterall, the dream is what keeps us going.
The dream is what keeps us going.
