Truly, beautiful writing. Thank you. When you reach my age, you may discover that the "seam" between leaving home and (possibly) returning, is not so much a choice or lifeline; rather, its the moment you accept your own independence. Soon, your parents and my generation will pass. Then, home will be wherever you choose to settle.
My parents’ retirement home, where I’ve never lived, has somehow become “home” too. There are two recliners and nowhere for me to sit, but I feel safe there like nowhere else.
Thank you for putting your story into words. You slowly open envelopes from your past at the perfect rate for readers to digest while simultaneously leaving space for us to contemplate the unfolding of our own. Bravo
I loved the rawness of the last two photographs in this essay, Liz! Just beautiful the way your words and photos tie together the vast narrative that otherwise might seem to large to be held by just words... 🌱🫶🏼
Beautiful! Somehow I missed all the March posts so just now catching up. I also had a nomadic, altogether happy childhood, but when I left home at 17 I never looked back. And once when I was going through a difficult time, my dad told me the same thing over the phone—he said "You can always come home," and without missing a beat, I replied, "I would rather die." He laughed, because he gets me. But even though I was too young and bratty and fiercely independent at the time to take that lifeline, knowing it was there, and having heard it spoken out loud gave me some well-needed courage that probably was critical to getting me through. Do they teach them to do this in DAD 101 or something?
Truly, beautiful writing. Thank you. When you reach my age, you may discover that the "seam" between leaving home and (possibly) returning, is not so much a choice or lifeline; rather, its the moment you accept your own independence. Soon, your parents and my generation will pass. Then, home will be wherever you choose to settle.
So beautifully put, thank you for that. I’m grateful that this chapter put me back in touch with my extended family too. ❤️
My parents’ retirement home, where I’ve never lived, has somehow become “home” too. There are two recliners and nowhere for me to sit, but I feel safe there like nowhere else.
sorry if you saw the bizarre autocorrect of “repellent home” before I fixed it!
Hahaha I‘ll admit I was curious about what made the home repellant :)
“The safest place in an earthquake is in a doorway.” This has so many possible resonant meanings. Beautiful.
Thanks Ryan. ❤️
Your place by the fire is always there...what a metaphor! And such beautiful writing!
Shukran, sire. :) That means a lot coming from another writer.
Thank you for putting your story into words. You slowly open envelopes from your past at the perfect rate for readers to digest while simultaneously leaving space for us to contemplate the unfolding of our own. Bravo
I loved the rawness of the last two photographs in this essay, Liz! Just beautiful the way your words and photos tie together the vast narrative that otherwise might seem to large to be held by just words... 🌱🫶🏼
Beautiful! Somehow I missed all the March posts so just now catching up. I also had a nomadic, altogether happy childhood, but when I left home at 17 I never looked back. And once when I was going through a difficult time, my dad told me the same thing over the phone—he said "You can always come home," and without missing a beat, I replied, "I would rather die." He laughed, because he gets me. But even though I was too young and bratty and fiercely independent at the time to take that lifeline, knowing it was there, and having heard it spoken out loud gave me some well-needed courage that probably was critical to getting me through. Do they teach them to do this in DAD 101 or something?
How priviledged of the fiercely independent younger me to have never dreamed of the need to return home.
It’s lovely. They have a pool. But there’s no couch to sit on!
You’ve got me thinking of moments like these that have changed the course of my life, following that inexplicable pull of fate. Bravo!
Thanks Liz ❤️
beautiful beautiful beautiful.
Thanks Brenna. ❤️