It's a strange thing, slowly to come home to a place you've never been.

After far too long on the road, too many motels and truck stops, Nathan told me that he wanted to go home.

Heart breaking for him, I asked where exactly he meant by that.

"I want to go to the new house."

It's a strange, and peculiarly desperate sort of homesickness, not to long so much for a particular place that is home, but simply to long to be home, wherever it is that we are.

Today, out of the blue, my little bug-boy announced to me, "We're almost there."

Indeed we are. We're almost home--and oh, what a home!

We've picked out a place to rent and gathered all the application paperwork. All I need to do is pick up a money order in the morning for the application fee, drop everything off, and wait for approval.

It's gorgeous, and with carpeting in the bedrooms only, it won't be terribly hard to keep it that way. Beautiful, beautiful laminate floors! I could kiss them!

And the back yard! A good sized back yard with four or so mature pines, providing both house and yard a canopy of shade. And a beautiful play set, just the right size for our kidlings, and very attractive.

Things I never would have bothered to wish for, too, like walk-in closets in every bedroom.

Even the things I wouldn't have chosen, like the forcefully floral wallpaper in the kitchen, the walls separating the kitchen from dining room and living room, and the unique overall shape of the house... all these things have distinct advantages, and may very well end up being better than "just what I wanted." After all, the wallpaper actually is very pretty, and since we really do want to get into a place of our own in the near future, it's really better to have a kitchen that is cozy and homelike as is, than one with the potential for all sorts of decorating that probably wouldn't even happen until right before it was time to move. And, well, if you can't see the rest of the house from the kitchen, that does mean that you can't see the kitchen from the rest of the house!

I'm just a little bit excited, in case you couldn't tell.

And in the mean time, we're experiencing the warm southern hospitality of my dad's cousin Lorre, and her husband Paul. They've welcomed us into their home with open arms, and while we haven't met the rest of the family yet, I've been hearing enough to get the idea that there's a lot of family, and that family means a lot. It wasn't even on my radar when we made the decision to move here, but do we have family in the area? Indeed we do.

Family, moreover, that really likes kids, and let me tell you, that is a very big deal.

Speaking of which, I can't count how many times I've been asked if twins run in the family, and it turns out I've answered them wrong every time.

Years ago, Paul and Lorre had pretty much the same sort of family as we do now, twin boys and their little sister.

And I have no idea how I'd forgotten, but off in Ohio, I have a set of second cousins who are fraternal twins. And yes, it's their mother that's my dad's cousin, not their father.... apparently twins do indeed run in the family, and not just all over the house and yard!

It's surprising what a warm and belonging feeling a discovery like that can bring. I didn't think it really mattered, but it does. Always before I thought that I was just special, the odd one out, who just has twins out of the blue. It turns out that I'm actually participating in a peculiar quality of Palmer women. We are the sort of women who bear twins, and somehow that "we" means more to me than I would have guessed.

It means something like home.

1 comment:

Mrs. Speckperson said...

How wonderful! How amazing! How awesome!

I knew it would work out - hurray! I'm so happy for you all.