“Place” is a little bittersweet for me at this point in my life. It used to have a strong meaning for me because I grew up in the same house that my parents lived in until they both passed. My mom died a little over two years ago and since then, my sister has been working on their house to get it ready for sale. That “place” held all of my childhood memories, good and bad. It had gone through many iterations and each one held some meaning for me. It is now stripped of all that (literally – my sister had to gut the entire thing to get it up to code and repair electric and plumbing). It is much nicer, I’m sure, but it is no longer that same place that I remembered.
I am also in a sort of holding pattern in our own home. We bought a place in So Cal at the top of the market and when I got the job in Nor Cal, we were upside down by 10s of 1000s of dollars. So, we kept it and rented it out. We have been doing that for going on 10 years now and it has been fine. The first place we moved to in Chico we had to move out of when my daughter got sick and we found out we would be in the Bay Area for months on end. We’ve been in the place we’re currently in since moving back, almost eight years ago now. But, it is a rental and my DH is not excited about doing anything to make it more like our own. He is hot to move somewhere more permanent (eight years seems pretty permanent to me) by selling our place in So Cal and buying a place up here, but that all requires a lot of preparation and planning and seems overwhelming and scary.
So, our place is not what I want it to be. I no longer have the long-standing place of my childhood. And I constantly feel out of place in my life. I have decided that the last nine days of summer will be spent making our backyard a place I can enjoy and feel good spending time. I realize how important place is in life and I feel like I need to create a place I can feel good about, whether it is long-term or short-term, mine or just in my community. I’ve lost my place, but I hope I can find it again.