Home is not just a residence or a location. I have come to learn that it’s more of a feeling. I certainly never expected that I would leave the city I grew up and lived in for over thirty years. I loved living in Houston. We had friends and a cute little ranch style home that I had spent the last eight years loving, painting and decorating. I had big plans for that house. But sometimes life throws you an unexpected curve ball. Mine came in the form of a job change for my husband. After years of training he was offered a fantastic job as a medical professor. The only problem was it was in Chicago. Suddenly my familiar life changed as our family moved 1,000 miles away. Everything happen so quickly it was hard to catch my breath and take it all in. The house I loved sold in days. I left my job and soon everything I owned was boxed and in a moving van.
The whirlwind weekend we spent finding a home in Chicago was exciting but once I was there the house that looked like it had so much potential suddenly seemed overwhelming. The avocado kitchen and the sea of green and gold walls made me feel like I was living in the Emerald City. Like Dorothy I longed to clicked my heels and go home. Here I was with my two tiny girls and everything we owned in boxes. We had moved before but it was nothing like this. Even as we began to unpack the new house didn’t feel like ours. My oldest daughter who was two at the time cried and asked to go back home and it was hard to explain that this was our house because I knew exactly how she felt. It takes time for a place to begin to feel like you belong there. Now over a year and countless gallons of paint later I must admit this house is beginning to feel more like home.