Moving back to a place where you once lived is always an odd thing. I have moved away from Ohio twice now, and returned twice. I know, you think I would have learned the first time.
But the thing is that it is never exactly the same. Lots of things are the same, but not everything.
Obviously the house is not the same. My kids keep telling me they want their old house back. Even though we are now on the street we always wanted to live on. Right now I want our old house back too. But long term…. well I want the house we are designing and about to build, on the 2 acre lot we now own.
But that doesn’t make it easy.
And while I smiled tonight when I took Cole and his best bud to lacrosse- passing their elementary school where lots of people were hard at work for the awesome day they will have tomorrow (a day they would never have in Chapel Hill)- see past supergame days here, here and here, I can’t help but think how things are different now.
Don’t get me wrong, everyone fell right back into old friendships just like we never left.
But when we moved I felt like my kids were still little. And now I feel like I moved back with different kids than what I left with. If that makes sense. They are bigger, older, just different. And sometimes I feel it in the pit of my stomach. Like I missed a year of their life. Which of course is crazy. I didn’t, we just spent it in a different place.
But to bring them back to the place they were born and raised, it just feels weird. Like we are new here. Trying to settle in.
I know it doesn’t make sense. And I know when we get our house done I will feel like we are making a home. Feel more settled.
But for now I feel like a visitor. A newbie. Trying to find my place.
In a place I am very familiar with but still out of sorts
We play in an unfamiliar backyard that still doesn’t feel like ours
And start all over again