Home.

“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go...”  

This is the week. The week that I have been dreading since coming to terms with Tim's death.
It's moving week.
As you may know, the people that live in San Diego pay for the sunshine here, so I cannot afford to live in this great city by myself. Thankfully, I met Sarabeth through my good friend Chelsy, and I could breathe a little easier knowing that I was moving in with someone that I not only knew, but genuinely liked! We both also have chocolate labs, so Sophie will have a friend to keep her company. And I will too.
I'm very very very sad to leave this apartment. I'm mad about it. I'm heartbroken about it. I'm annoyed with it. This was our home. A place to call ours. Our shelter from the world outside. Our sanctuary. Our place to just be. I feel like when I move out of this place, I will have lost Tim forever. I can still feel him here. Until a few weeks ago when I started going through his belongings, I hadn't touched anything of his. I had left everything as he had before he died. It was like he was going to come home any minute. His flip flops by the door. His toothbrush in the holder. His messy side of the nightstand. His side of the closet full. All of our pictures still up on the walls, over the bed, displayed in frames on shelves. This new place is a fresh start. You have to know that I'm totally torn in two over this week. On the one side, I'm kicking and screaming inside about it. I don't want a fresh start. I don't want to pack up all of these things and decide what I want to keep. I don't want to live in a new place, with new pictures, and new beginnings. I want my old home back. The one where I slept next to Tim, where we watched movies, where we ate dinner together, and lunch together, and breakfast together. Where he made me fires in the fireplace and hot cocoa, where we snuggled by the fire on chilly nights, where we felt the warm breeze blow through the windows in the summer. On the other side, I'm a little excited for my new place. I picked up the key yesterday and walked around the apartment again and thought, Yes, I can see myself here. A small step closer to healing, yet a small step further away from him.
I will say that I finally feel like San Diego is my home. When I got off of the airplane from Denver after Thanksgiving, I was greeted by sunshine and palm trees, and I breathed in deeply and smiled. I was glad to be home. But I have homes everywhere. Obviously, Columbus is my first home, and where my family resides. It's where I was raised, where I learned my lessons, where I started dancing. It's where I can let my hair down and curl up next to my mom on the couch and watch stupid girly movies. It's where I can tease my brothers, walk into my dad's shop and feel proud that he's my dad, and where I can lounge with all of my family and friends and act as if time hasn't passed between us. I have a home in Kentucky, where I learned to be on my own, where I made some amazing friends, and where I learned to love the horse races and hate mint juleps. It's where I made a ton of mistakes, and had the time of my life. It's where I can look at the rolling hills and green grass and think fondly about the time that I spent there. I have homes in Virginia Beach, Indiana, Chicago, Maryland, and Colorado, each with their own charms, love, and friendships. San Diego is my new home. California in its entirety is my new home. I absolutely love it here. The scenery, the weather, the constant sunshine, the never-ending possibilities to occupy your time. It can be sad and lonely without my family and friends who know me best, but I'm slowly building up amazing friendships and relationships here that I am proud of.
So here I am. Packing up all my belongings. These bits and pieces from each home are helping guide my slowly down a path to recovery. I tried to carefully choose what I wanted to keep of Tim's, because let's face it, I wanted to keep it all. But I can't be selfish and hog all of it, and I can't keep all of it because I can't hold on to Tim like he never left. So I kept bits and pieces of him that make me smile, and laugh, and encourage me to finish the adventures that we didn't finish (camping! Maps to the Grand Canyon!). I'm not a camper, but Tim REALLY wanted us to go camping for a weekend, and because I could never say no to that face, I agreed. Karlene pulled out a little air mattress thing for camping the other week and laughed because he had told her that he needed to buy that for me since I wasn't really pumped about sleeping on the ground. I didn't even know that he had bought it for me. It made me smile/laugh/cry. I remember he took me to REI a few months ago, and I had to get in all these sleeping bags in the middle of store to see which one was right for me. He said I needed one with a hood- I didn't even know what that meant until he pulled it over my face. Ohhhh. The things you do for love.
I wrote out the lyrics to this song on one of the cards that I gave to Tim. I wanted him to never feel alone, to always feel like he was home with me. We were both going into the unknown, and thankfully we had each other to lean on and rely on. We tackled each day together- Woke up next to each other, and went to bed next to each other (Koala Bears!). We were home.

 

Home- Phillip Phillips

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you're not alone
Cause I'm going to make this place your home

 

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you're not alone
Cause I'm going to make this place your home

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoRkntoHkIE