A Moment of Gratitude

On her beautiful blog, Aphaeresis, my longest-standing friend (three whole decades, ever since the sandbox) used a recent post to encourage me to pick up my own blog, now dormant for almost two years. And although I'm sure she thought it would be good for me, I don't think she realized exactly how great a kindness her little nudge was.

I'm currently at "home" in Seattle. I've been here for two weeks and am staying for another month, helping my father as he recuperates from a major surgery and charges forth into the chemically-tinged adventure referred to as "standard treatment." By home I mean my parents' home. Upon enthusiastically becoming empty-nesters, they moved to a condominium in downtown Seattle where visiting daughters must sleep (granted, quite willingly) on a pull-out couch in a small study with frosted glass sliding doors through which even whispers can be heard. This place is not my home, not truly.

But even before their move to the indubitably cooler area of Seattle, when they had a more traditional, suburban family residence, I'd never felt at home in the Pacific Northwest. My parents moved here after I'd already left for university. I have no childhood friends or memories anywhere. The few post-college buddies who'd gone to work for Microsoft and been available to socialize a decade ago have long since fled. My sports teams from Indiana, which I support with an almost tribal loyalty, are rarely shown on the regional channels here. The weather, which fosters the dark green, constantly damp trees that are so different than the Midwestern foliage I'm used to, seems so odd. I even find myself being downright put off by the constant drizzling, which is quite the aberration for someone who spent seven straight years recently living in an arid, rain-worshiping land and spent all the years before that loving thunderstorms. And while, yes, there is a familiar, domestic comfort in eating my mother's cooking again, I'm still struggling to find my comfort zone.

In the search for a comfortable space, I think back to my seven years and five abodes (eight, actually, if you count military bases) in Israel, which taught me the cliched but true lesson: when you're basically carrying your home on your back like a turtle, you need to generate your home by yourself. When you're so portable, you have to find your comfort zone within the borders of your own self-identity.

Thus, Anne's call to write again was such a helpful hint toward the path back toward myself. She reminded me that part of my identity involves observing beauty, especially in the daily rush of mess. That's even the reason I chose the name of this blog. I love to seek light and inspiration not despite chaos, but especially in chaos. And, if that's the case, then being thrown into the environment of an emotional explosion should actually help remind me of my own borders. The search for beauty right now should solidify my sense of comfort.

So, thank you, Anne, for helping me get a little bit closer to home.