There is something that I need to put out there. It's kind of hard to explain and it may be a bit vague so please forgive me.
My mom, Little Sis and I moved to the town I now live in the summer before my Junior year of High School started. We came here trying to escape something. Violence, I guess you could call it. Well, just all around yuckiness. Bad people, bad things, bad memories. We were running not from a bad life but towards a better one. One in which we could all find what we had been craving, and missing, in our lives.
And we found it. We found peace. A life that was undisturbed by bad things and bad people. I, specifically, found a place that felt safe and warm and inviting for the first time ever. I found people that were nice and comforting and kept me safe at a time when I needed it the most. I found a life that offered me a view of the fairy tale ending that I had always read about. Even through the tough times, this was my home. The only place that I ever felt as if I was really at home.
This is my home. This town gives me a sense of pride and wonderment. The people feel like my family, even if they are strangers. The surrounding area is filled with more beauty than I could experience in a whole lifetime of exploration. This is my home. This is my safe and secure locale that I will always gravitate back to. This is the place that I belong.
At least it was. Until two days ago.
That is when I lost a lot of that security, that safety. Bad things had finally found me, caught up with me, touched me in this place. In my home. It's hard to explain. It's hard to put into words the feeling that swept through me. But I'll try. I have to try. It hurts.
You see, I saw something. Emptiness to be exact. The epitome of "a perfect home" devoid of everything. No longer filled with objects lovingly placed and replaced again and again. No longer overflowing with familial warmth and comforting sounds. A home without the homey feeling. Gone. Done. Vacant. Empty. The place, the house, that I considered to be "home" was hollow and just plain wrong.
Dad has moved on with his life. That just feels wrong. He now lives somewhere else. That just feels wrong. Brother-in-law and Wife are about to move in to the family homestead. That just feels wrong. Life has gone on without her...and that just feels wrong. Most wrong, in fact.
I no longer feel that I am safe in my bubble here and I no longer feel the obligation to hang around as much as I did before. Sure I still have my mom here, but my mom is still my mom no matter where I live. I felt at home here in this town because I had found safety, security, comfort...and family.
...and now, it's all be torn to pieces and lays around my feet in heaps and piles of debris. An argument here, a painful memory there. The litter left behind by a terrible tragedy that leaves me wondering if I will ever feel at home again.
What will it take this time?
What will it take for me to find a home again? The safety, security, and comfort that I have so craved throughout my life has once again been yanked away by a thief in the night. So what will it take this time?