Quality of Life
These dictate our "where" of living out our days. They, of late, are consuming my every waking and sleeping thought (I dreamt we lived on a space big enough to own several pigs--and I don't even like pork, really). Don't patronize me with the notion that "happiness eclipses place", that it can be found--or rather made-- "anywhere".
I know this.
But (and there will always be a "but" as long as there is a blog--and even after there isn't), I have always felt a huge sense of place. Huge. Everything from how the air feels when I go out first thing, before even a sip of water, and breathe it in, to the way the earth around me accepts the seasons.
I was born in California and only lived out the first few blinks of life there when we moved to New Mexico (this is where I will always be from because this is where I first recognized myself and my place in the world), then onto Utah where the Grandparents would no longer be a 12 hour drive full of fruit snacks, beef jerky, and orange sections handed back in a tissue. We would be close to family. This place got me through high school and college, then the itching began: my first call out of the desert after two semesters. I quieted those voices with a summer in Ireland and some quick visits to small and large towns in Europe. I returned then risked two years of my own "place" to help others find theirs in Russia--where the earth didn't seem to accept the seasons at all and the air always felt a bit chilly, even in dusty summer. Returning meant a shock of love and migration to the deep South where Louisiana eased her way into my heart. Phoenix, next, has balanced our time in the swamp with her un-liveable yet somehow beautiful desert conditions.
Seth dreams of building a house "by Grandma's house, but not too close, made out of lincoln logs and really big with nice grass: no pokeys, leaves, or bugs in it." I dream of living "in a place that could feed us: where rain falls, crops grow, and drinking water bubbles right up out of the ground." (From Animal, Vegetable, Miracle).
So, now where?
This question has become my new pregnancy, whose embryo was perhaps planted in one of my thighs since they seem big enough these days to be hosting some sort of organism (in fact, Lucy poked one of said thighs yesterday and asked if that was where the baby's leg was) but, I digress. This adjunct pregnancy is just as consuming yet more malignant. It's as if it's very arrival and ability to inflict despair booted us out of house and home out in the wilderness of unsettled peoples. Do you see where I'm coming from? (Do you know where I'm headed?) Can you sense the turmoil? I am, of course, since this is way too public of a forum, sparing you the details and my opinions for the sake of their privacy and the survival of their influence. I will, via knees and hands clasped, sort through the needs and wants and find the must be's.
But...will the must be's find reconciliation with the dreams and the vision that existed in me before I called any of the places, in which I have been placed, "home"?