Coming Home

Moving definitely becomes harder with age. This is no something I planned to do so soon after my move a couple of years ago. Unexpected in many ways, but so perfectly right in others. As I sit here, finally settling in after all the activity from the move, I feel a sense of joy. Joy at being home, finally, back where I belong.

When I first moved to Moudon, after selling the house in May 2013, I was happy enough with the apartment, it was exciting to be moving in to a new place, and I got to furnish it like I wanted, make it my own. But it never really did feel like my own. Not completely. The interior of the apartment was nice enough, and the exterior was lovely, country living in a way, close to a river, close to grocery stores, everything I should need, right? But it wasn’t Home.

I didn’t realize how bad it was – well I did, I felt guilty at making the girls come visit so far away, especially for Jessica who had the car and would have to drive that long distance. Usually in traffic on the way home, too. And I couldn’t just hop in the care and visit them because I knew the drive would be hard on me. Everything seemed further away, and so I stayed home most of the time.

I didn’t realize how much it was not home to me, until last Spring when I had several doctor visits and medical tests to attend to. I had put off several scans – things I should do either yearly or every two years, they had all gone past due, mainly because I didn’t want to have to make the hour’s drive to the clinic for the tests. I did space them each a week apart, but by the last one, I was exhausted from driving. I just wanted to get to the clinic and have them done and get back to Moudon so I could rest.

But something happened last Spring, as I was driving along the toll road on the way to the last of those scans. I saw the roof of Pfister, a furniture store in the town we’d lived in for so many years, the town my girls grew up in. I saw that roof top, and was hit in the solar plexus by such a strong feeling of nostalgia and yearning that I burst into tears while driving.

It was like waking up and realizing that I was out of phase with my life as it should be. Realizing that Moudon would never ever be Home to me. Realizing how much I missed my girls, just knowing they are nearby. And yes, even missing places, familiar settings, etc. I’d spend over half my life in this area of Switzerland. Moving to Moudon, while interesting as a change of pace, was never intended to be a permanent solution. It was temporary, but I didn’t realize until that moment that it was now time to come home.

That’s when I started looking, not hurriedly, but I did sign up for some new constructions that were to be available this Autumn. There really wasn’t that much else around. None of the three I looked at were ideal each had certain possibilities, but all were more expensive, and I was concerned about that – but I didn’t care, they were here along the coast, in the area I call home. It was enough to have signed up for them, it gave me the patience to wait.

So this past August, I started checking on them – was told that the priority would go to people who live in the area, in the counties they were built in. I’d have to wait and see if the apartments got filled up, and if they weren’t I might be accepted. So I kind of left it on trust – though it was stressful, and I did have difficulty managing that stress. Still, I never lost hope, in spite of the stress. I just couldn’t understand what was taking so long! The apartments were due to be ready for October 1st, and time was passing.

I did still go online to see what kinds of standard apartments were available, too. Not that I’d have a chance in heck to get a standard apartment – not with my Disability income and too many young working couples looking to rent one bedroom apartments. I was not a priority for that kind of place. But I looked anyway – that’s part of having faith that life will bring you what you need – faith is wonderful, but you can’t just sit on your butt, you still have to look around, take measures, be ready.

When I saw the announcement that there was an apartment for rent Here, I felt such a wave of rightness. I hadn’t even thought about looking here, because back when we sold the house, I had inquired about an apartment here, I think it was a 2 bedroom, and was definitely too expensive. I didn’t understand at the time that certain parts of the rent would be paid for by my Supplemental Disability. Lots of things were unfamiliar to me about this kind of apartment.

But now, when I saw the announcement for this apartment, I knew better, knew which amounts were mine to pay, which would include aid from Disability, what would need to be paid for etc – and better yet, being a one bedroom, it was within my budget. Even better than the apartments under construction. Perfect timing. Perfect area, perfect everything. But above all, I Felt it. I knew. This apartment would be Home.

So now here I am. Home at last. Most everything is unpacked, just a few items to put together. And it feels so right, so good. This is where I belong. And every day brings me new affirmations of that. Coming Home – finally – all in rightness. It feels wonderful!

When I look back at the stress, I wonder why I allowed it to take hold of me so strongly. By now, one would think I’d understand the nature of how things happen, of allowing and rightness. Perhaps I just needed a reminder.Β  πŸ™‚

Everything is falling into place now. It feels Right. It feels like Home

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And so it is. πŸ™‚

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6 responses

    1. Thank you! πŸ™‚

  1. Carolyn Horsam | Reply

    Fascinating story of a strong spirit. Hearts of blessings and good wishes to you in your new home.

    1. Thank you Carolyn. πŸ™‚ Lovely to hear from you!!

  2. So glad you’re feeling settled Judee. And you’re right, moving does become harder the older you get. We’ve moved a lot, and have one more move in prospect (but not yet). 😦 Every happiness in your new home.

    1. Second try with a reply. Thanks for stopping by, Sandra. And thanks for the good wishes! πŸ™‚

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