“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.” ~Christian Morgenstern
I definitely feel like I have been “home”.
No, I didn’t visit with any blood relatives, but instead with perhaps, my oldest friend in the world. We met when we were 9 years old. That was 30 years ago. We laughed at how long we’ve known each other and how it really doesn’t seem like it can really be 30 years. But it is. We couldn’t believe it has been nearly 11 years since we last saw each other. But it has been. Fortunately for me, she and her family have come from their home in Pennsylvania to vacation at Litchfield Beach, SC, only about 2 hours from my home. I couldn’t NOT go see her.
With someone you’ve known that long, there is a certain comfort level. She knows me. She knew me “before”. Before everything. And even though we haven’t seen each other for years, we picked right up. As if it were yesterday.
Yesterday when we were having a sleep over and playing UNO by flashlight under the covers after her mom had told us (several times) to go to sleep. Yesterday when we were in our church musical production (Moses and the Freedom Fanatics) where she was Moses and I was Miriam (Moses’ sister) and we put baby powder in our hair to make ourselves look old. We performed a little mini-revival of the production right there on the spot. And we rocked it, thank you. I thought I’d never get that baby powder out of my hair.
We visited together with her parents and in-laws. We sat on the beach and watched our children play in the sand and surf together and marveled at how this could possibly be. We watched our husbands play bocce ball. We took lots of pictures and promised that it wouldn’t be 11 more years before we saw each other again.
We talked about how we really are the same as we’ve always been. And we are.
I don’t care what they say, you really can go home again.