I moved away from Kansas thinking it was what I needed to complete myself. And maybe it was, honestly. I'm not sure I would have ever been satisfied if I hadn't moved away. But what people don't tell you (or what you aren't willing to hear when you are determined to leave) is that the absence of your family, of your friends, leaves a new hole in your heart. I left trying to quench whatever thirst I seemed to have and I found out only later that leaving left me thirsty for what I left behind.
I have new people I love now--my husband and his family and new friends--but the ache for the ones I am so very far away from never goes away. Some days, I think it's gone. I'll wake up and think, today I don't feel so very lost being away from them. Today, I don't feel a soreness in my chest when I think about how I haven't been there for the births of the last four nieces and nephews. Today, I don't feel panicked about how I'm going to have a baby so far away from all of them. And then it hits me. It's always in an innocent way. Some coworker mentions that their weekend plans involve going over to their mom and dad's house to do something completely mundane like help them with yardwork. And something about this comment--this perfectly innocent and boring comment, rips me in half because I never do anything mundane with my family. I don't have the luxury of the mundane. And yes, it is a luxury.
My husband and I went home for 5 days this summer. I wanted to stay longer (or forever) but because of work committments neither of us could be out of the office for long. My trips home used to revitalize me. I would go home for a week or two and it would calm the homesickness for a long time. I also used to go home more frequently--four times a year sometimes--which helped. I rarely went more than four or five months without seeing my family. But this year I got pregnant and it seems all extra funds have gone to preparing for baby and this huge life change. This particular five day trip, did nothing more than break my heart. My mom and sisters and nieces had a baby shower for me since they had come to a realization much sooner than I had--that this trip was probably the only time they would see me while I was pregnant. And something about that just left a sickness inside of me that I haven't seemed to be able to get past since the visit. I cried the entire plane ride home. Now, three months later, I randomly cry when the thought hits me again and the frequency of the thought seems to increase as often as the circumfrence of my waist increases these days.
The realization that I will not be home for Christmas hit me about a month ago. I mean, I knew when my doctor told me our due date was December 21 that travel was pretty much out of the question for the holidays. I knew. But somehow the reality of this did not set in until recently. I've never missed a Christmas at home. Never not participated in the annual Christmas Eve dance party my family has or missed Christmas Eve mass with them or missed my dad reading the Christmas story. I've never even missed putting snacks out for Santa Claus on my parents' coffee table. I've never missed last minute shopping trips to Manhattan with my brother and sisters or skipped a Christmas morning with my nieces and nephew--eyes sparkling, cheeks pink with excitement--shrieking with delight at the gifts Santa brought them.
And of course I realize that this Christmas will be special for my new little family in ways I can't even fathom yet. It's very possible that we'll have our own little baby by this Christmas and I know how that will fill my heart with a joy and happiness that I won't be able to comprehend until I hold him or her for the first time. When I think about the abundance of love and blessings in my life, I am overwhelmed. Because the ache that I have inside of me is not from being left wanting for love. The ache I have inside of me is from having so much and wanting to be close to all of it, all the time.
It was so easy to leave Kansas four and a half years ago. It really was. I packed my life in two suitcases, bought a one-way ticket and hopped on a plane. But going back is much harder I think. Going back always is. There are things to think about now--spouses, new family. jobs, benefits, bills. It isn't just me anymore and my decisions can no longer be selfish. I can no longer pack my life into two suitcases and buy a one way ticket and that is a blessing for many reasons. But 'here' has never felt like home to me. I've always felt like a visitor, just waiting for the next place. I've stayed longer than I expected. What I find myself saying over and over again when I am hit particularly hard with a bout of missing my family is, I want to go home. Let me go home. Please. And I don't think that feeling will ever go away.
