Bits of Home

Moving. Again. Third time since 2020. Only my kids are keeping track beyond that at this point. Landing just down the road. Cheaper. Smaller. The whittling away of our existence. Once upon a time, I thought I’d be surrounded by gardens and chickens, nestled in some sort of cottage perched above a large body of water. Nesting with my grandmother’s tea cups and vintage typewriter collection. Instead, I’m filling boxes for Goodwill with books on building compost and looking up ideas on loft living. Remaking my idea of ‘home’ feels like building sandcastles at the sea’s edge. Yet, despite all the shedding, reimagining, and redefining I do, there are pieces that stay. This collection. To some (and they might live in our house), this is just flotsam: gathered rocks, glass, and creative musings that might be better served returned to Nature or left to the ‘free’ box. And I agreed… until I went to pack them up. These are souvenirs of my travel through time. Tiny fragments that spoke to all the versions of me from before, in all the places I’ve traveled and from people I’ve loved, to make it to now. These may simply sit in a carved wooden dish by my bed, but they ground me in ways I do not understand. I have let go of the cottage, some tea cups, and so much more, but like the people in my heart, these bits are ‘home’.