Leaving home, to come home…?


It’s a concept few people understand, having two homes. Loving both of them the same, but for different reasons…Feeling attachment to both, but different reasons. Different people are the ones holding you attached to these places you call home. Making memories in both, growing in both, but in such different capacities and phases. But knowing that you can only have one at a time, no matter what and how much you try. It is impossible to have both at the same time. That is heartbreaking. Because when you are “home”, you cannot stop thinking and hoping to feel and touch, your other “home”. Once you get there, all you can think is what you have left behind…you will never be -home- again. At least not fully.

Here is the thing, is it really a place? I grew up 3000 miles (5000 km for my metric systems peeps, like me) away from where I live now. I grew up speaking a whole different language, than the one I speak now. I grew up thinking I would live an hour away from my parents. I thought I’d see my older sister give birth to her children, and that I’d see my parents for lunch and coffee on Sunday afternoons. And oh boy, is life different. 

Regardless of how cliché the phrase “home is where the heart is”; I didn’t realize how true it was until I walked through those words with my own two feet. It’ll be two years tomorrow since the day I married my husband, and even though I knew before the wedding I wasn’t going back to Costa Rica, that day sealed the deal. That day my parents walked their daughter down the aisle and were not only “giving away their daughter”, but were giving away the idea of their daughter having a family closed to them (geographically), giving away a lot of thoughts that I’m sure have to be “sacrificed” when your daughter moves away. 

And although, we have talked about what our lives would be like if we move back home to Costa Rica and we never technically fully eliminated the possibility of “living in paradise”. I’ve never seen staying in this home as a sacrifice, talking to my mom the other day, I kept telling her that I would make this choice over and over again. And then I realize that it is, because “home truly is where the heart is.” 

 I started to write this piece at the airport when I was flying back to Arkansas from Costa Rica, and for some reason I was filled with so many emotions that I couldn’t distinguish the good, the bad, the nostalgia; but sure enough this is it. Happy Anniversary to us.

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