I woke up this morning with a feeling of excitement intertwined with loneliness and nostalgia. I had a dream that I was home; not this home, but my childhood home. I was walking the streets of my small hometown with my friends Margie and Phyllis like we use to do when I would stay overnight at their house and we would go for walks. It was winter and we were easily shuffling our feet through the snow as we walked next to the railroad tracks across from Schancer's Coach Tavern talking about silly things that only friends can understand.
The interesting thing is that we were young girls again - Oh my gosh, how fun to see us young and innocent and carefree again!
As we continued on, we suddenly got older and ended up near a house that was put up as a museum sitting among some trees behind the Post Office; a place I had never even been to in reality. This house was filled with all kinds of nostalgic items: nicknacks, dishes, pictures, books, sheet music; almost like the displays you see when you go to House on The Rock, but on a smaller scale. I inquired about this place and suddenly my sister Betty was there telling me that two old houses were bought and moved together to make this museum and she loved going there as it was so fun to see all the collected items of times gone by.
As I walked through this house, up the old wooden stairs and across the creaky hardwood floors, I was filled with such warmth and familiarity. It was like stepping back in time and being a child again surrounded by things that felt comfortable and reassuring to me.
I woke up with a euphoria that is hard to explain and as I let this feeling soak in, trying hard not to lose the dream or that comforting sensation, it sadly starts to fade.
Suddenly it triggers other thoughts and memories and my mind races remembering fragments of other things from my childhood which have long been tucked a way in my brain; days of sledding down the hill on pieces of cardboard boxes, skating down on the river under the Black Bridge, the red cellophane wreath that hung in our window adding a glow of wonder and spirit to the holidays...
At that point I had to get up as my mind was racing and I really needed to capture what little was left of my dream in hopes of preserving it and not losing it once again. The final thought I had as I got out of bed and hurriedly pulled my sweatshirt over my nightgown while shoving my feet into my slippers; is that one never really leaves home. It is embedded in our psyche and the total package of who we are and are to become!
I now have a different home; but in reality I truly have two homes. The first, which nurtured, embraced and molded me into who I am today, while the second one fulfills the dreams that were set in motion all of those years ago in a place I still call home.