Home really is where the heart is

Every little thing is packed, and although it’s only 8.30pm, I am in bed still with this headache. At least it now ebbs and flows, and when it flows it is less painful than before, alhamduliLah.

Also today, I was fed proper.

I have only lived outside my family’s home once in my life, at The Treehouse. I loved it, and though it felt home-ish, it wasn’t home. My home always remained split between where my mum fell asleep and where my dad fell asleep.

I had so much stuff left at my mum’s then; all of the really important things. But not this time. This time, it’s all coming with me, and I think this is partially responsible for the tension headache. I am sad to be leaving home, while excited that The Cloud Cave already feels really and truly like my home. The only way it could feel more like home is if there was a man lurking in the corner to surprise me every time I opened the door. (Maybe he could be pregnant!)

Honestly, I wish I could tell you that I am over the moon excited today as I was a few days back, but I would be a lying liar who lies. I am not excited, just sad and exhausted. I imagine that the excitement will start to sink in around Earth Hour tomorrow (please don’t forget to shut off all electricity between 8.30pm and 9.30pm — I have all candles ready for the hour and about this, I am excited).

I imagine that I will be excited when I have my first guest.
I imagine that I will be excited when my mum and dad see The Cloud Cave and also feel at home.

People will tell you that only children are spoiled. These people haven’t a fucking clue. The weight of the world rests on our shoulders, and we can not fail as no one else can step in and succeed to the happiness of our parents. So many of us are over-achievers by nurture.

This is not a tragedy unless you make it so; it is a blessing and an honour to carry your parents when it is time. It is a blessing and honour, but right now I am in no place to carry this as I would rather bury my face in my dad’s chest and tell him that a part of me is really scared to be alone, because I remember crying the first night at The Treehouse. And that a part of me is really worried to go to sleep without someone calling out goodnight. And that a part of me wishes to once again get angry at my mum because she is so chatty in the morning when all I want to do is wake up quietly.

Tonight isn’t really the night I expected, and I am fighting tears, so here’s hoping that tomorrow I will be far too exhausted and satiated to feel as much, when I am staring at the crack in the ceiling of The Cloud Cave.

Love to each and every one of you for your amazing and kind messages of warmth. Where I can’t feel the weight being shouldered by a partner, you have stepped in with your words and they have acted as a ramrod to my heart. xxo

Photo from the BYU Linguistic Department.