A House is not a Home

A house is not a home until your heart resides there.  It can be a shelter, a place to hang your clothes and rest a while, but it takes more to be a home.

The Peppercorn Cottage as D and I have come to call it, is feeling alive inside.  I had visited it three times before.  D was here.  His things were here.  But I was not.  My head was not here and my heart was not here. I truly thought that it was as I hated leaving but with each visit I opened and closed a suitcase.

I have been here nearly a month now.  In some ways it feels like forever and in others I am still a stranger here.  I have not wandered far from home.  After setting up house, I settled in to finish up some of my courses and to putting my hands to work in pies, breads, muffins and cookies.  I am learning to love to cook again.  I am filling this house with beautiful smells.  The kitchen is still new to me.  I am gaining a sense of what it is to bake a sea level.

Once again, I have a dog at my feet.  We brought Harlequin or Harlee as we call her (nearly 3 months old now) home 3 weeks ago and as you can see my shoes are not suitable for office life anymore.  This too has been a learning curve with puppy training and walks in the woods and on the beach.

I have applied for jobs, only to be rejected.  I must admit, I am feeling a little hurt by that but at the same time, we planned for me to have some time off so that I could take time to grow some roots here.  Friends and family keep assuring me that something will come along when it is time.

Much like my journey through my divorce, I keep thinking that I am good.  That I am not homesick.  This is exactly where I want to be.  I can’t imagine being anywhere else.  BUT, there it is, welling up when I least expect it. Waves of loss and grief for the people that I left behind.  You see, I am just a small part of each of their lives and although I do not doubt that I am missed, they can move on with little disruption.  For me however, all of them are missing.

The people here are lovely.  I met a few more yesterday at a tea hosted by one of the neighbours across the road.  I suspect in time, they will be part of my people too.  But, on days like today, when I listen to this house, in spite of the beautiful smells of peanut butter cookies, loaves of bread, puppy noises under my feet and Sophia nestled somewhere upstairs on our bed, I need just a little more time to have this house feel like home.