Being back in Charleston was interesting.
I’m a born and raised Charlestonian who grew up chasing fireflies in the humid summer air and staying on the beach until the moon came out. I never thought I would be the person to move away and see different parts of the USA – never in a million years, heck even ask my family & friends they would say the same. I really thought I would live my entire life in Charleston and die hopefully after a nice glass of sweet tea and during my sleep.
Then the love of my life came along dressed as a Sailor and off we’ve gone to explore new places.
I came home for two weeks to spend time with family and start going through things that I left in my childhood home.
One of the days I took off to just spend time with the bestie and drive around Savannah, GA and Beufort, SC (where the pics from this post are from).
All in all it was a lot to process; and by a lot I mean a lot.
I quickly realized that my attachment was no longer tied to that home.
I still love it, and pieces of my heart will always reside in that house, but I no longer feel like it’s my home. A lot of my stuff is still there, my brother is living there, and it is all still so familiar to me – but the minute I walked through the door I just knew it wasn’t mine anymore…does that even make sense? It was the first time I had been “home” in over five months, and it was truly a lot to just wrap my head around. I was expecting to feel like I wouldn’t be able to leave again, or overwhelmed with joy to be back in my house; yet I was surprised at how indifferent I felt, I wasn’t expecting that.
The definition of home had already began to re-define itself the month or so after I got married. Home wasn’t in South Carolina, or Maine, or now Connecticut….home was with Eddie. Home is in the small moments that we spend investing in one another, in the adventures we go on and in the quiet evenings on the couch.
Home is beating wildly inside of my husbands chest.
Home is the look we give each other after days apart.
Home is the arms I rest in at the end of a day.
Home is slow dancing in the kitchen.
Home is having rice and eggs for dinner because we don’t feel like cooking.
Home is wherever my husband is.