We are in the final stretch of the move. I am realizing how little in life is beyond my control. That is a frightening, yet liberating realization.
I have struggled the last couple days feeling like I have no place to call "home." As Sam, ever the optimist, pointed out, we have TWO residences. Although, one is an empty apt. in Abu Dhabi and the other is an empty house. Neither qualifies as "home," although, they are both residences.
Which causes me to take pause and think back fondly on Greenville. Other than the place where I grew up in TN, our home in Greenville was where I lived the longest and probably experienced my fondest memories.
We brought four children home. One when we moved there from CA, two from Pitt County Memorial Hospital, and one from farther away than I ever expected.
Before I left, I made sure to take a moment to reflect on the blessing and heartaches we had in that house.
The backyard where many an afternoon was spent in soccer tournaments, flying kites, and playing tag. The driveway where Thomas learned to ride a bike (the baseboard where he split his head open). The side plot we turned into a vegetable garden. The kitchen where we baked Christmas cookies. The light fixture over the kitchen table where we kept bumping our heads, even on the last days we lived there.
But, as with any house--it's not a home until it's lived in. We've welcomed many people into our homes, who became friends, and then family. You know who you are, and I'm grateful to have shared many a laugh with you.
So, to my Greenvillians--thank you for your love, empathy, and support. Without you, Greenville would have been just another dot on a map.
No comments:
Post a Comment