Facing Home for the Holidays

I am feeling equal parts excited to be going home and dreading what faces me there. The same comfort of the usual faces and places present the same haunting visions of a painful childhood, a mystery I have yet to uncover. I’ve had this curious feeling every arrival since I officially left home five years ago, and the same mixture of sadness and relief at departing… Of course, finding some type of serenity when I spy the familiar sites of New York City.

Home will always be the key to understanding how I continue to function in the world around me. It is a microcosm of existence that we carry with us everywhere; as it is said, the home is where the heart (and heartache) is.

As I said in my previous post, there’s just no cookie cutter life anymore so in some ways we need not worry whether our futures will be right or wrong. Just as life is this way, I’ve learned in the last year that our family life, upbringing, the very things that have shaped our view of the world – they are no more right and wrong than how brightly the sun and moon shine. As I draw closer to home, I try to gather all the feeling of empathy and understanding in the nucleus of my heart. I have hurt just as much as I’ve been hurt, with the same unintentional consequences. It is the way we play God – determining outcomes and affecting others in such a way as to draw out certain actions.

As the miles close in, I try to accept all of the sadness and misery that came out of this place as merely a fact of my youth. It is a truth, but it is not a universal truth. It does not determine all that I am now or will become – nor does it for everyone else, for you. The faces and places
might still be the same, but must our estimation of them be the same as well?

To get over our fear of the dark, we must spend time in the darkness and realize that, without fail, the day begins anew every morning.


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