Corbin and I didn't leave on this adventure because we didn't like our place of residence, our town, employers, or friends. We had etched out of the Rockies a little life for ourselves, which we loved dearly, and accomplished some of our big goals that we had set several years before. Hence, when we hashed out our itinerary, we decided we didn't want to miss Friendsgiving, a Colorado tradition with some of our dearest friends.
This initial decision to be back in Colorado on Thanksgiving was a double edged sword: we felt rushed to do a huge portion of this country in a matter of weeks, but it gave us a "home" to come back to and enjoy when we grew weary of the road. And if you've been following along, we did become weary. Mostly because we felt rushed. Oh, the irony!
But this weariness was quickly soothed by the familiarity of a place we know and love and the presence of our cherished friends. It was like a massage for the soul.
We spent our first couple of days in Fort Collins, catching up with friends and former co-workers and enjoying the sunshine and unmatched quality of beer. Seriously, Seattle and Bend and everywhere else we've been have nothing on FoCo's beer. Cry about it. We then made our way to Boulder for a Friendsgiving feast with Amber and Tony and their bunch of friends. The food was delicious, the company rich, and the evening wonderful.
Corbin and I sometimes like to look into the fridge and pantry, or the backseat of the truck now, after we've gone grocery shopping and marvel at our richness. It's a proud moment, much like Tom Hanks' character in Cast Away when he finally makes a roaring fire:
That's how we feel with a full fridge. That's how we feel with a big delicious meal in front of us that we made. That's how we feel on top of a mountain or looking at the sprouts in our garden. And, that is how we feel surrounded by our friends. We feel rich. Richer than rich. We feel like Tom Hanks.
I remember laying in bed with Corbin talking about our friends, and how good it was to be back around such familiar people. I remember asking myself "Is this what home feels like?"
For those of you who don't know, I grew up moving around a lot. In fact, our life in Fort Collins tied the record for longest I've ever lived in one city at 3 years. Corbin, on the other hand, lived in the same house until he trucked off to Bloomington for school and still hangs out with and is close to his childhood friends. As such, Corbin has a better understanding of this concept of "home" and we talk an awful lot about it in our free time, but we're starting to think that it's much more convoluted than we thought.
After a couple of weeks in the mountains, we made haste for Indiana. I spent the majority of the drive composing perverse renditions to the tune of IU's fight song about the grey winters and soggy roads that awaited us in the Hoosier state. Corbin exhibited an extreme amount of patience for my lyrical ruination. We drove with some haste, stopping only when I ran out of gas, to see some cool rocks, and a quick visit in Kansas City.
We were not disappointed upon our arrival in Indiana. It was as we expected. Cold. Rainy. Grey. Salt laden roads. Vitamin D deprived people. Traffic. Potholes. Never ending construction. But we were happy. Happy to start visiting with family who have been supporting us since before our departure in October. But we weren't exactly excited. We were gearing up for a form of war. War with time. War with the road.
Okay. I might be being a little dramatic. Christmas time for us is always a hectic mess. We being the young adventurous heathens of our families feel compelled to make the effort to be everywhere, all at once. We drove back and forth across Indiana so many times that, from December 10th when we arrived in the state to New Year's Eve, we had covered over 1,200 miles.
Sure, it was tiring and stressful at times. I'm sure some of our family and friends we visited with probably thought we looked a little zombified and road worn. But we saw and visited with our families and reconnected with old friends. We had dinner, drinks, lunch, breakfast, and waaaay too much coffee with our loved ones. We cleaned counters, washed dishes, did laundry, swapped stories, and shared fond memories. We went for walks in the woods, watched favorite TV shows, and gawked at commercials. We shared our lack of a plan, listened to the dreams of others, and held embraces as long as we could without making people feel awkward, or at least trying not to.
On New Year's Eve, as per tradition, we reflected on this past year and made resolutions for the year to come. So often people ask us, "How long will you be doing this?" or its cousin-question "So what's after this?" and to be honest, we don't really know. I think that's why were traveling. It wasn't the intended purpose of the trip, but is becoming a necessary feature to find the answer to that question. And the more we think about it, the more the concept of "home" comes up. Here we were, back home in Indiana, visiting with our families and friends, thinking of a different kind of home. And I think we'll keep going until we figure out what that "home" is that we're trying to find.
Home is where the heart is.
There's no place like home.
Home is not a place, it's a feeling.
Family makes this house a home.
Home sweet home.
I'm going home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
And maybe this is a stretch, but after that quick Google search, it seems we humans all seem to be looking for "home" and trying to decide what it means...
So we left the topic for a quick jaunt to Ohio to see my grandparents. And the trend of seeing and feeling but not quite knowing what "home" is continued. We met their acquaintances, their relatively new friends Marv and Rosie, and old friends like Chuck and Betty, and talked about their pasts and presents and hopeful futures. This was especially nice because it was the first time I've been considered and treated like an adult by any of my grandparents. We talked about what brings meaning to one's life. What feels like success and what looks like success. We talked about life and all the crazy shit that happens to a person before they die. We talked about love, fear, and loss. Mistakes and redemption. We talked about how life takes longer than you think, and surprises you every step of the way. We envied my grandparents' involvement in their community and envied their ability to limit their interactions with others to only the most meaningful kinds. We left them with full hearts and bellies, and with a departing hug moved on to visit in Bloomington.
In regards to place, Bloomington is about the closest thing to a home I have. Its where I did most of my growing up in addition to my learning. Its where I learned how to learn, how to listen, and how to ask questions. Its where I learned how to love, and how not to love. It was lovely going back and seeing how things have changed and, in some instances, stayed the same. It was wonderful going back and reliving memories where they occurred and noting the passage of time. Some people do this in their hometown, like when Corbin drives me around the Gary/Hobart area telling me endless stories about his hooligan friends and he doing some ridiculous thing. Bloomington is my place for that.
Even so, we didn't spend too much time in the city. If we weren't reconnecting with the few college friends that remain there, we were off in the land of no cell signal at his grandparents' cottage in Brown County. This place is a relic. Its homey to so many people. Corbin spent every summer of his childhood there. His parents lived in it at one point. They had their college friends there often. Its full of memorabilia from his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and strangers. It's where Corbin's and my romantic story began. Where some of our favorite memories live. It also is the embodiment of the love that Corbin's grandparents have shown everyone. I can't spend a minute in that place without feeling all warm and fuzzy thinking about those two.
I mentioned there was no cell service. There's no internet (hence the lag in posting) either. We spent our time here reliving memories while we spruced the place up from the effects that the first half of winter had already had on the place. We read, a bunch. We walked around the woods and the property. But most of our time was spent talking, mostly about what we had learned and were still digesting from our time back home with family.
Back home with family.
What does that mean? While we loved spending time with family and old friends, it felt like home in some way, but it didn't at the same time. And in this time of much reflection on the love and festivities we shared with our loved ones, I think we made some headway on what "home" is.
Home is a duality. Home is where and with whom your human foundation was formed. This is home in the past-tense. Its the place and feeling we go back to. I don't think this home is singular in itself. Then there is the home we each build for ourselves. Its where we build our dreams. Its where we develop our sense of community and/or build our community. Its the people and places that we're wholly invested in. This is home in the present-tense, and I don't think its singular in itself either. Sometimes past-tense and present-tense home are the same and sometimes they're different and sometimes they're both the same and different.
In the end, I think we've boiled it down to community. Home is where you have a strong sense of community. And I think we've decided that whatever we do after this, it will be to really sow community in our lives. And I think we'll stop doing this when the urge to build that becomes stronger than our desire to see this country and the people in it.