Today I pack up my stuff and head home--which makes me think about the whole idea of home. Let me collect some odds and ends here:
--First of all, let me acknowledge how discombobulating it is to be thinking of "home" as a concept when we're in a time of huge dislocation for so many people. As much as 25% of the population of Ukraine may be displaced, for example. And although Ukraine is getting much of our attention right now, it's hardly the only refugee issue.
--I can't remember where I read the story of the Ukrainian woman who was on a business trip in a non-Ukrainian European city when Putin invaded. She has at least one child in Ukraine, and she can't get back. I've thought of her often and wondered how she's doing, and more specifically, what she's doing. Did she pack the right kind of clothes? The clothes we need for a business trip can be so different than the clothes we would need for regular life, and those clothes may be different than the clothes we would need as refugees. How long was the business trip? Can she access her money? Can she get in touch with family in Ukraine? Is she still employed?
--Her story is not what made me pack such a large suitcase. I'm flying Southwest, so I can check a bag for free. I brought clothes for lounging, clothes for church, clothes for cold weather (but no coat), and clothes for warm weather. If I stayed here a day longer, I'd need to wash a load of socks.
--My parents moved to their current home in 2011. They're in a continuing care retirement community, the kind of place where one can live in a separate house or an apartment or a room with more care, and there's a memory care unit where those with Alzheimer's won't wander away. When I visit, I stay in a hotel-like room in the apartment building. There's no wi-fi in the apartment, so I spend early mornings in the library downstairs. There's a coffee machine in Archie's Tavern across from the library, and I drink latte after latte each morning.
--I will miss this routine.
--Because my parents moved a lot when I was young, I don't feel like I had an ancestral home, so there's not that sense of loss. But they've lived here long enough that it does feel like a homecoming when I visit.
--I have been impressed with how all the residents here in my parents' community make their homes their own. While I was here, in the apartment unit building, on the 5th floor, the St. Patrick's decorations got exchanged for Easter eggs and bunnies. My parents' housing area has lovely garden spots and a wide variety of bird feeders and bird houses.
--From my parents' neighbor, I learned that chickadees make their nests out of moss, wrens out of sticks, and bluebirds out of pine straw. It seems that there should be a poem out of all these images of nests and refugees and travel, but I worry it would seem trite in the face of the serious subject matter.
--I will be returning to our rented condo, a place that both feels like home, but is extremely temporary. And it is strange to reflect how many of my South Florida friends have moved away and how different life in South Florida is.
--It's strange to be in a different place. I haven't been sleeping well, and I'm not sure why. I woke up yesterday thinking about the fact that my full-time job let me go without a real explanation. From an HR standpoint, I understand why they didn't give me details. From a Kristin perspective, it means I don't have closure, and my curious brain keeps wondering what happened. I wasn't fired, exactly--I wasn't let go for cause, which means I can still get unemployment. So it wasn't exactly my fault, but I can't really be sure, can I?
--This trip begins my 5 weeks of intense travel, which wouldn't be possible if I still had that job. I've got 3 retreats planned between now and the end of April.
--I saw the Holy Week schedule for my home church, and I thought about the fact that my seminary gives us an Easter break. I thought, well of course they do; so many of us are employed by churches, so we need to be available for Maundy Thursday onward to Easter Sunday. That fact makes me feel a sense of homecoming in a different way. No more sneaking away to Holy Week services!
--And now it's time for me to return to my room to put everything back in my suitcase--I'll spend the next 5 weeks taking these same clothes, or variations of them, in and out of this suitcase. Then I'll head to my parents' independent living unit, where I'll have breakfast with my folks, my sister, and my sister's dog.
--Soon I hope to be living closer, as I do seminary work on campus in person in DC this fall. That will be yet another homecoming, that is both a homecoming by traditional definition, and so much more.
--I hope it means I can see my family more often and have this kind of homecoming too.
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