Last week was so crazy that I am still recovering. The work part was gogogogogo and exhausting but also great. The home part was mentally draining without Kamel but lovely being able to spend time with my family. And the weekend was so incredibly fun it left me with a fun hangover.
Yesterday was really hard. Working and playing and living for a week like a normal person (vs a holiday-ing person) in Seattle made it even more clear to me how badly I want to move back. My family is all there, 2/3 of my best friends (who are truly my family) are there, all of my memories live there, and the vibe in Seattle is just so… lovely. I can’t even really explain it. When I think about Seattle everything sparkles: the water, the trees, the seasons, the skyline. Sparkle Sparkle Sparkle. And yes, it rains and it is cold and it is dark, but there is also snow and the leaves changing color and those sleepy sundays where you can hear the rain outside and you burrow deeper under the comforter. I want it all.
I’ve wanted it all for a long time. All through pregnancy I moaned to Kamel about wanting to go “hooooooome!” I thought that once the baby was born I might be able to make my great escape, but it wasn’t meant to be. Then last week and this last weekend happened and it made it ever more clear that my life is happening in Seattle, and I’m still in the Bay Area… missing it. Being back here makes me sad. Kamel tells me to focus on what is happening now and not to worry about Seattle, that it will happen eventually. But it is really hard to continue to focus on making the best of being here.
I’m sure once we move into our new place things will settle. Once I get some distance between myself and last week things might not ache so much. Maybe. Maybe not. I want to go home. Kamel says home is where we are, but that doesn’t always work. Home is also where the rest of my people are, where we got our deli tray every single Christmas Eve (until that one time there were bugs in the parsley and then…. never again). Home is the same walk along the rocky coast I’ve taken since I was 7 when we moved to the brick house. Follow-The-Leader on the logs washed up on shore. Home is the smell of the sea on foggy days. It’s the hubub of downtown during the holidays. It’s the Catholic schools I grew up in, happy hours with the girls, barbecue chicken on Sunday with my parents, having my kids grow up with the people I want them to see as auntie and uncle, not just there mom’s crazy friends.
I had my 10 year high school reunion on Saturday night. It was spectacular. Most of the people I really wanted to see all came. And only a handful of the people I work hard to never see again were there, but I was very happy to not have to speak to them. Win! There were hugs, and catch-ups, and karaoke, dancing, and drink specials. At one point when I was getting anxious that I should have probably headed back to Kamel and the baby, Maris turned to me and said, “This is NEVER going to happen again! STAY.” Best decision ever. I worried the reunion would be lame but it was so not lame. Looking at a large chunk of my classmates all in one space made me feel like it had only been a month since graduation, and at the same time being a grown up with less drama and a lot of distance from the petty day to day of high school… such a surreal and lovely feeling.
I guess I have never really said, on this blog, I want more than anything to move home. Right now there are no plans because jobs dictate we stay here, but maybe even just putting it out into the universe will cause things to align. Who knows. Like Pip in Great Expectations, it is so much harder to go back home than you would think.