Home

" And it feels like home, yes it feels like home;
It's where you come from, it's where you belong
And it feels like home."

         Feels like Home- Tom Chapin

It used to be this way in the early days here.  We'd go back, Anthony and I (the first time, not quite a year after the wedding because I was so horribly homesick), and then for weeks after, I would have this ache. This feeling of not quite here, not quite there.

Mummy has said that I won't "aard" (take root…grow…do well) in South Africa anymore. I am from here now.  Then how come I don't feel from here?


The best thing about here, is of course the fact that I came back to Anthony and the girls. So wouldn't it be nice, to have the best of both worlds?  To have them with me…there.

I spent 10 days….ten full, good days… with my family.  We talked until our eyes couldn't stay open. Laughed until our sides and faces ached. I saw people I haven't seen in years.  I had 10 days of my people, my accent, my food, and a pace I forgot as soon as I came back home.  I know…. there's a lot of "me" in all of this. I know it is selfish. And I know that this is my post-being-home-syndrome.:)  The thing that has me remembering who I am, and where I come from.  The place where everyone knows my name. The place…my home on Juniper Crescent, where nothing is required of me…desired of me, other than just who I am.  I am not judged there. And should there be something judge- worthy:), I know I am welcome…always- no matter who and how I have failed.

Home is a good place... a safe place.

Sophia, was just having a classic case of ants-in-her-pants-disobedience at the table yesterday.  It was our first Grillo family Thanksgiving.  Talked once, maybe twice (the meal had not even started yet).  Food was on the table and we were ready to start.  I poured the girls' cranberry juice in fancy glasses. Sophia kept fiddling with the glass…reaching over it, etc.  Anthony was concerned that Sophia would spill.  I maintained that she has to learn. He maintained it didn't have to be on Thanksgiving Day.

So of course you know what happened next, right?:)   Yup she spilled the entire glass of juice..on the tablecloth….on the foil covering the turkey…on herself. Four ounces of red looks like a lot when you spread it over a few things.;-)

He looked at me with an "I told you" look. She looked at me with a "what are you going to do" look. I got paper towel, mopped everything up, then asked Sophia to sit on the stairs for a minute, since she had been asked to stop playing with the glass, and didn't and that was why she spilled.

So you may say…"Carmel, really?  You kind of set the poor kid up to fail!"  Perhaps. But I still maintain that she has to learn. It doesn't matter that it's Thanksgiving Day.  My feeling is that this is our home…her home. If she cannot learn here, where should she? If she cannot fail here, how will she know what happens after.

Home is the place where, when you fail (because no matter how big, or small, we all fall some time or another), you take the consequences. And when you have done, you come back to the table. The spots are on your dress, and the table. Your bottom may even still sting a bit from the consequence. But you sit at the table, and join in the love and fellowship that you're a part of…always.

I loved being home….I am home now.  Perhaps there will always be this push and pull. And as the weeks go on, I will get caught up in the busyness, and the pull will cause less of an ache. The accents around me will sound familiar again... I will move through the grocery store with purpose and not feel the absence of Mummy beside me so keenly... and this will again be my place…home.

Fennel for the roasted veg

Master Turkey Roaster:)

As we start our own family traditions, the precious ones we bring with us.

No-one can make Grammy's mashed potatoes quite like she does…but we gave it a shot!:)

Need I say more?