The good thing about insomnia is that it affords plenty of time for blogging. I did not think I would have an opportunity to post while on vacation, however here it is 3am and I know that lying in bed is a hopeless waste of time. So thus I am ready to "blog" although at this hour I will not guarantee quality writing.
We arrived in Denver late Wednesday evening. The flight went remarkably well. Zack watched Nemo, Evan ate snacks and was generally content. Much to my surprise I did actually read several chapters in my novel and the whole experience was quite pleasant. Perhaps there will be payback on our journey home.
Home. For my 30th birthday my husband and I hopped a flight from home (Denver) to San Francisco for a fun filled get-away weekend. We walked through North Beach, caught a show, and took a limo ride through wine country. At the end of the whirl-wind trip we left San Francisco and headed for the mile high, exhausted from a great vacation and happy to be returning home. Now at nearly 36 it's all turned around. Denver is now the vacation destination and Berkeley is "home".
Except it's not. Not yet anyways. The feeling of home struck me as soon as I saw the silly roof top of DIA, designed to look like the peaks of the rocky mountains. I have experienced the comfortable sense of belonging throughout this entire brief journey.
We are staying at a friend's home, about a half mile from our old house. These aren't just any pals of course. This is Darren & Shannon and their two little boys who are some of our very closest friends. Being in their home is strange only because although we have spent countless hours here in the past, we never had cause to sleepover, until now. On Thursday morning I awoke to the sounds of our kids at the breakfast table. I said a quick hello and then threw on my running shoes and went for a jog. I was dying to see the old neighborhood. So I ran along Bryant street and was happy to see that everything looked very much the same. When I arrived at our old block it felt as though no time had passed at all. The Fletter's had their beautiful garden in full bloom. The Fischer's had election signs posted on their perfectly manicured lawn. Parked on the Stevenson's front porch was that same orange stroller.
Then there was our house. It felt as though I should just be able to walk right in and see it as it once was. But of course I couldn't. So I just stood there a while and looked at the two story Victorian that we bought when I was four months pregnant with Zachary. It was my dream home at the time. An enormous kitchen, modern bathrooms (did I mention that there were four of them?), a walk in closet and a master bedroom. Over time, I found reasons to complain about it, but knowing what I know now, after living in a 1200 square foot split level, I would do anything to have that cabinet space back.
Besides it was home. It was the the setting for countless holidays and birthday parties, playgroups and barbeque's. It is the house we bought to raise our family. Now we are renting it out to three single ladies who have no need for a nursery painted in "Christopher Robin's Swing" green.
Standing there, I wanted to run up and hug that house, if I could. Just throw myself at it and wrap my arms around it's four walls wailing "It was all a big mistake"
This trip has been amazing, but far too fast. I have seen many of my girlfriends over the past two days and I have been hearten to feel that after almost a year, I could fit right back in with them. We had a playgroup, and last night went out for a girls night out at Lola's one of my very favorite spots. The conversation was hurried, for there was so much to catch up on, but easy and comfortable. No-getting-to-know-you small talk, because we all had years of history under our belts.
Tomorrow I will go to see my sister and nephews and then head up the winding roads of Golden Gate Canyon to see my father and stepmother. Monday morning we leave for Berkeley. For our new "home". I remind myself that it isn't so bad. We have had all kinds of adventures in the bay area, work is good and we have met lovely people. In time perhaps, Berkeley could actually be home. Perhaps.
For now though, Denver has my heart.