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Does anyone else get emotionally attached to a space?  I didn’t think I did … yet, here we are.

My landlords sold the building I live in … they came to inform us on Monday night.  The new owners are moving in and all the conversations surrounding that came Monday.  Talk about timing.  

I verbally gave my notice Monday evening but put it in writing on Friday morning - end of the month, not last week.  I was surprisingly emotional.  I’ve lived here for so long … These walls have witnessed my grief, heartbreak, fear and uncertainty, laughter, lullabies, frustration, quiet contentment, moments of bravery … so many memories were created in this space.  

There is a comfort in that … a kind of safety. 

It’s hard to put into words … even now, as I’m writing this … I’m struggling with how and what best expresses what I’m feeling.  

Maybe the best way is to explain what home feels like to me.  

There is a song by Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors and Bebe Rexha called Home … “home, a place where I can go to take this off my shoulder …” that makes me think of home.  It brings to mind millions of memories, not all of a place, but with people who matter or have mattered in my life.  All the memories - good and bad - have a  similar theme, they were made with people who made me feel safe (not that I walk around feeling unsafe) but the kind of safety that lets me be myself.  Good, bad and everything in between.  

These people don't try to dim my light, make me feel less than or or like I should play small.  They show up and celebrate my wins, they wrap their arms around me and let me cry when my heart is shattered.  They laugh with me - and sometimes at me - they call me out when I need to be called out, hug me, let me problem solve, offer advice (solicited or otherwise).  They see me at my best.  They see me at my worst.  They love me regardless of which version they get on any given day.  

They are everything that home should be.  

During COVID, I spent so much time here, that it became that.  It allowed me to hide, to grieve, to work … Georgie and I hermitted together and did ok, better than ok really.  Home took on a new meaning - it became a sanctuary.  It did so again after I quit my job … while I was out and about everyday, I also allowed myself quiet moments, curled up with Georgie, giving myself time to rest, us time together … It was like having mini resets. 

It’s a funny thing about homes … they are like fashion - in that how they are dressed is a reflection of their occupants.  I love this place and how it’s dressed.  My new space … different light, the walls are a different height … while my things are moving with me, how they are curated in that space will need to be different.  How the space flows and breathes … different.  

The new place requires a different colour palette on the walls, a different layout.  I will lose my garden - so I will need to figure out how to bring that indoors.  How I use things, where I place them, how I group pictures … all different.  Still a reflection of me, just a me I haven’t fully realized yet.  

Don’t misunderstand, I’m excited about this journey, I’ve cleared the water's surface and am beginning the climb.  It’s just a goodbye … those always feel sad.  

The next couple months will be busy … packing, painting, some projects in the hopper, work, travel for work, moving, unpacking, getting a sense of flow and function, hanging pictures etc. etc.

It might take some time - it might not - for the new place to have that sense of comfort, of safety, of sanctuary … it will come.  

I suspect this week will be a rollercoaster of emotion.  Starting the packing process, the bank, the lawyer, the final walk through, collecting keys … all the things that make it real.  All the things that make it final.  

My street is lined with old lights … My sister used to call them Sesame Street lights - so that’s how I think of them now.  My new street has them too (which is funny, because they aren’t actually that common). When I turn up the street in the evenings, late at night, or early morning … they always signalled home … it’s one of the things I like about where I’m going … I get to keep the lights … that feeling I get when I see them … the knowing … home.  

I think that’s the thing … the feeling … it isn’t about the house - it’s the home … like it’s not about the wedding but the marriage … the friends but the friendship … it’s supposed to be emotional … it’s a connection, a feeling ... it is emotion.  

Like the song says … “home, a place where I can go to take this off my shoulder ... someone take me home …”