Home vs. Away

A balance, not a competition.

East, west, home’s best.

This is something my mom used to say whenever we returned home from, well, anywhere. Not that I necessarily agreed; I mean, Connecticut in the dead of winter, better than Southern California, where I could skip through the sunshine in my grandparents’ yard wearing a tank top to pick a ripe orange off a tree before heading off to the Rose Bowl parade? I don’t think so.

I do get what she meant, though. After being someplace else, it feels good to sleep in your own bed, open your own refrigerator, and get back into the groove of your own routine.

But- the delight in feeling grounded is a result of -and proportionate to- our ability to take off. Willingness to cede control marks the spot where things begin to get interesting.  Sam and I found ourselves saying “sure, why not?” a whole lot visiting our friends in Florida this past week, which confirmed for me that life is best lived open to possibility and savored (like I’m doing now) in the reflection.        

To come happily back in requires wholehearted going out. The close comfort of home feels oppressive without forays into a world filled with wonderful uncertainty to let in fresh air. My mother picked her side, but for me, between east, west, and home, it’s a tie and team effort.