December 13th around 2am
It's our first night in the new house. John is sleeping soundly, but I just can't fall asleep. I lie here, but sleep won't come. If I close my eyes real tight, I can almost make it feel like our old house....our home. We are in what is to be our new home, surrounded by nothing from home, nothing familiar, nothing of our own. I am so thankful for all the Lord has done, but a sense of overwhelming sadness has fallen over me. At times, it feels like I am living in someone else's world. It is not like we have moved to a new house with our old stuff. We are here in this house and nothing we have is ours. I miss the little things....my favorite, worn in pillow; that old comfy pair of shoes; my spot on the couch where I snuggled with John under the soft red blanket someone gave us when we got married. I miss the feeling of crawling into our old bed after a long day. I miss sitting around the table at dinner. I miss walking through the house in the dark, knowing where everything is. I miss walking through the door to that familiar smell of home. I miss the pictures on the walls. I miss the creak in the hardwood floors in the one little spot by Aiden's bedroom door. I miss being able to work in the kitchen effortlessly knowing where everything was, my recipe collection, my stained worn cookbooks. I so miss my home....not just the physical material things, but more that sense of comfort, familiarity and belonging.
John keeps telling me that in time,this house will feel like home. I know he is right. But you know that feeling you get when you've been on a trip for a while and you are just ready to get home? That feeling you get when you pull into the driveway and you know that you are HOME. That's how I feel...I just want to go home. But I have come to realize that day won't come.