Introduction Part 4 - Home

"You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore…all of the sudden even though you have some place to put your [stuff], that idea of home is gone…or maybe it's like this rite of passage…you will never have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, for your kids, for the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. Maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place." – Garden State

"Home is where your history begins" – Where the heart is

"Home is where they catch you when you fall." – Where the heart is

"Why do we fall? So that we might better learn to pick ourselves up." - Batman Begins

I often think about home. My home growing up was peaceful and traumatic. There was a sick parent, a workaholic parent, an angry brother and a sick (very sick) self. There were very many near death experience, which were caused by accidents, depression and health. There are some really good memories buried in my mind’s eye: Ballgames and car trips; Awards and trophies; holidays and traditions; and food and food and food. There are also some very defining memories burned into my thoughts and onto my minds carousel of slides: Ambulances and vomit mixing with blood on the kitchen floor; thumbs with rubber bands strung through and to them; sheriffs and tears; screaming and slammed doors; silent dark houses with the odors of two week old dirty clothes and no one to do them. Lastly my mind can recall the mundane: Turtles walking in the hall way; roses blooming and being pruned; my father hawking stuff at flea markets; my mother selling Avon; my brother playing leap frog on bridges with cars; me being towed around a cul-de-sac in a Radio Flyer filled with cold water on a hot summer day.

In July 2003, my home came to a conclusion. The home that I grew up with was down two people and was no longer any resembles on the home I knew. In a few short months, I would leave that house forever and move to Idaho. While in Idaho, my father would move out of the house, after a 13 year stay, and move into a condo which had rules dictated to you by a HOA. Gone were the days of working on cars in the bitter cold using the bar b q for warmth. Gone were the days of pictures of Temples, Angels and Christ plastered on the walls. Gone were the hallways decorated in Thomas Kincaid. Gone was the huge back patio for parties and socials. Done were the gardens and the roses and the everything. All that is left of that home are memories.

For three years I lived in apartments on the west side of Rexburg I lived with a bunch of roommates - some good and some I wouldn't mind locking out on a cold winter day. When I returned to California, I moved in with an old friend. He was in need of some financial help and I was in need of a cheap place to stay. It was a bad idea from the beginning. We fought all the time. It wasn't anything close to a home. I actually started working two and half jobs just so I wouldn't be home as much. I hated going home.

Recently, I moved in with a retired LDS couple. I live in their home. It is their home, but for me it is just a place to stay.

If you've read this far, you're probably asking "And your point is?" My point is this blog. In addition to needing to pay the price, value the reward, and not run - I am looking for home. I'm looking for that place where I look forward to every moment. I'm looking for more than just a place to store my stuff.

And I can't do that without her.

A portion of this blog will be about me preparing for home. Both a home and a Home (one on a concrete foundation and one on a sure foundation.) I look forward to that day and to that home.