Home

It's amazing, isn't it, how many places become home, how many people become family without the benefit of shared blood? Forgive me while I wax philosophic on this particular post....

Despite all the advantages you gain by growing up and being an adult (or as close as I'll ever get), you do lose something too. I have never felt as safe and protected as I did as a child, tucked in my bed, knowing my parents were nearby, ready to handle an attack of the flu as easily as the monsters under the bed. I particularly remember the feeling of safety and happiness of getting into a dark car on a cold night after a warm meal at a restaurant. I was warm inside my coat, parents were in a good mood (eating out was a rare treat). I had a full stomach and a great sense of well-being with the world.

As an adult, there's no one there to chase away the monsters under the bed, which usually take on the form of worrying about the mortgage payment or am I doing the right thing? You drive yourself everywhere, except when your spouse drives. And more often than not, I feel like my husband and I are partners in a war against the world. Comforting not to be alone, happy to be together but not secure in the same way as when someone else was doing all the worrying for you.

So last night, completely out of the blue, I was amazed to find that feeling of safety, of home, even just a sliver of it again. My best friend from college, her husband and little boy were in town visiting. Two of our nearest, dearest and oldest friends (not age, but years of knowing) came over and we all went out to dinner. We sat around the table, eating and laughing. As I looked around I realized something I'd forgotten. We were a family. One of a different sort, one that has grown to encompass spouses and children but with no begrudgement of affection. One whose members cannot see each other as often as they'd all like (not all of us were present even last night), but a family nonetheless. And so when we all piled into the van again to head back to our house, I felt that same feeling of utter safety, contentment. Of being surrounded by people who accepted me for who I was and who I accept and love in return. You forget how amazing that can be.

So, Ed, the daddy to be, was the "dad" last night, driving us all home. My husband was in the front talking football with him and Julie's husband, Rob. Julie's little boy was singing and talking in that little kid way. I was in the back back, comfortably sandwiched between Deb (and her baby to be) and Julie. I was warm and my stomach was full. I was basking in the glow of seeing my book earlier in the day and being able to share it with these people who'd all had a hand, one way or another in making it possible. But even without that, I would have felt the same. For that one moment, for that fifteen minute car ride home, all was right with the world. I was at peace. I was home.

Even when we don't see each other as often as we'd like. Even when stress, distance and grown-up obligations make life difficult, it is one of the greatest comforts to me knowing that there are those out there that I call "my family" -- no shared blood required : ) I love you guys!!!

Talk to you tomorrow.