|One of the canals of the Winter Park scenic boat tour|
The word home evokes a variety of emotional responses responses for me. I think of warmth and familiarity, a place where I am accepted and known. But I don't feel any of these things here. At least not yet. There are two or three people in the whole state who really know me, and only a few of the streets I've driven are acquiring even the faintest sense of the familiar for me.
I suppose it helps that I didn't expect to feel warm and familiar from the moment I set foot here. I expected I would be tired and frustrated, adjusting not only to a new locale, but also to a new reality: up until a couple of weeks ago, I had always been either a full-time student or full-time employee. And now (gulp), I'm neither. Our insurance agent used the word "homemaker" to describe my occupation. Well ... if you insist. The place and the title are so foreign and unfamiliar.
But I do belong here, nonetheless. It isn't a feeling, but rather a fact of this new life. James is here, his job is here. We are going to have a baby here (and more after this one, Lord willing) and are committed to building a life here.
Washington State will always be where I'm from, and if I think of home, I am naturally going to think of that place first.
But this place? This is home now. And it may not feel like it, but this is where I belong.