My Parents’ Home

I went to my parents’ house out in the country and took a hike into the back hills where I used to frolic as a child.  Memories came flooding back as I wandered through the open, snowy woods.  

My Neighbors

I remembered the neighbor, Ms. Mueller, who I had been told was a survivor from World War II and the Nazi camps. She lived up the hill behind our house on her own, windows covered with black garbage bags.  I was always told not to bother her, yet if I saw her outside of her house curiosity would win over and I’d talk to her. She was very kind, if not a little strange.  My dad would tell me that was part of her PTSD, but I didn’t really know what that meant.

For the Love of A Child

In elementary school one year we made paper May Day baskets, decorated them with crayon, and filled them with candy. I decided I wanted to give a basket to her; perhaps she was lonely and need some drawings for her refrigerator.  I hung it on her doorknob and knocked on her door and ran into the woods to watch, terrified and excited.  Would she be angry for being disturbed?  I didn’t even know which of her two doors she used.  I waited for a while, then ran up again and knocked on the other door even harder, confused at the lack of response. She never answered the door, and I left a bit disappointed, but hopeful she would find it later.  

Home Has Changed

The structure of the forest has changed. I searched for the tree where I used to hide out and read books in my dad’s deer stand. (Around the age of 8 I “ran away” and was determined I’d live there to show my mom how much I didn’t need her rules.) The sacred meadow where I used to sit on the rock and overlook the cow pasture is now full of bushes and trees and thorns. A temporary deer stand exists elsewhere, ladder propped against a young vital tree that can hold the weight.

Can You Go Home Again?

When I come here and go into the woods, I remember the simple innocence; the comfort of wanting to be away but knowing I had a place to return to where I was loved. I think about all those who don’t have that right now and feel trapped in houses with people who don’t love them.  

It’s more common individuals are with partners or family who DO love them–but are unable to feel it.  Just like when I was young and I didn’t realize how I was being loved by my parents—especially in the times of boundary struggles. 

Community Support

The water is off.  I know 20 years ago I could have walked to any neighbor’s house to refill the water jugs.  I’m sure I still could, but it feels different doing it now, since I don’t know the neighbors, than it did when I could bike to the neighboring farm to ask for a cup of sugar for my mom.  Why is that?  Has living in the city and owning my own house and seeing the separation of the world taken away my ability to knock on someone’s door?  Maybe I should tap on that.

Have Neighborly Ways Changed?

I’m not scared and I know I won’t get hurt.  It’s almost as if there’s an unwritten social rule.  I guess I could go knock and introduce myself. I don’t know why asking for water seems like a harder step.  If I were in a foreign country, I probably would, as if being a foreigner excuses my need. But I’m home, aren’t I? 

I’ve Changed More Than Home Has

As I followed the deer paths, the landscape no longer looked familiar to me.  I remember coming here when I was 24.  I think it’s the last time I was out here.  My cat had died unexpectedly in front of me the same day I broke up with a boyfriend. 

I had returned to bury my cat next to my childhood dog, and took to the woods to heal my broken heart. I sat on a fallen tree, laid down and promptly fell asleep.  The sun was in a different space when I awoke, and a deer was calmly grazing nearby.  She looked at me as I rolled my head to look at her more clearly, and we shared a moment together.  She kept eating, and slowly ambled away.  It connected me to what’s real.  

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What’s My Point?

It was a reminder connection and love is eternal, no matter how painful it can be.  Peace can be found in gentle moments, no matter where home is or isn’t.  Even in the grief of a death, even when all feels lost, there is still the part of self that grew from that connection.  

That’s what I choose to take back with me to the city. Stillness. Hope. Knowledge that beauty is unfolding and will expose itself when this part of the journey is done.

What is Home for You?

If you are struggling with connection in your family relationships, whether in or out of your current home, I can help. EFT tapping is amazing at helping move through feelings of disconnection, anger, loneliness, betrayal, stress, and feelings of lack of intimacy. Reach out for a free health and healing strategy session and let’s figure out how to make you find that feeling that home is safe and calm for you.

With love,