Oct 22, 2013

feels like home



I am very lucky that I fell in love with a farmer who only lives 20 minutes away from my parents. It's so easy for me to run over to visit and they try to stop by when they can. We can celebrate all the holidays together especially birthdays. We can call each other up and go out for a last minute pizza. My mom and I can go shopping together. I really am lucky.

However, whether you're 20 minutes away or 20 hours away, it's never easy to adjust to a new home. I lived in the same house my whole life with the exception of moving off to college. Even then, I still came home almost every weekend and all summer. 

When I first started dating my husband, I made a lot of friends and connections in the area. The county where he lives is a little different than where I came from. The people are different. The culture and values are somewhat different. People even spoke differently. It was a good adjustment at first. I found myself spending a lot of time down at his farm and out with my new found friends. I was having fun. I was experiencing the life I always wanted. We went over to his parents a lot to visit. It sort of felt like home right away.



3 years later, we got engaged, paid off the farm together and our new pole barn house was slowly going up, the wedding plans were coming along but I found myself spending more time at home than usual. We were apart more when we were engaged then when we first started dating. I pulled away from my new friends and my husband's family and kept to myself at my parent's house. I wanted to savor every last minute in the home I had known forever. 

The wedding came and went. I moved into my husband's bachelor pad as we waited for our place to be built. All of my things were in boxes. I was a wreck. I just wanted to settle into one spot. I helped on the farm, I got involved back with our friends and my husband's family but I just didn't feel like I was at home. I walked up and down the lengths of our road trying to force myself upon my new area. The area that I was to call home.

 I called my mom often.

I was home sick. Home sick and only 20 minutes away.

I didn't think it was possible. 

I thought it would all change when we would move into our new place and unpack all my stuff.

But I was still home sick.

I was excited when mom would invite me over for dinner or dad would ask me to help bale hay. I loved the familiarity of being in a place I could call home. Their home was no longer my home, though. My home was on a 4th generation farm 20 minutes south with a boy I loved dearly. My home was the house we built together and the dirt my husband's great grandpa once turned.

I am finally glad to say that I am no longer home-sick. It finally hit me this fall. In fact, I think it was this last Sunday.

You see, my husband and I were finishing up harvest together and long story short, I was having trouble with the grain cart, spilled some grain and for some reason I couldn't get the auger to close all the way. When you turned it on, it made a grinding noise. My husband was having a bad day already and sort of snapped at me. I took it personally because he usually doesn't get cross with me and I demanded that he stop, take a deep breath and just relax. He wanted me to get out of the tractor so he could take over. Well, I didn't want him taking over with his mind racing a million miles a minute so I stood there. Besides, someone needed to run the combine and everyone else was dumping grain at the mill. I didn't want him getting hurt. Words were exchanged and I went to the house upset.

I was mad. So mad. You have no idea how upset I was.

I cried. I cried some more. I wanted my mom. I wanted to pack up my clothes and go back to my parent's house but then it hit me. This is home and I can't run back to my mom every time we have a little spat. And I am serious when I say little. It lasted two minutes if that. We were tired. It had been a long several weeks and we were just ready to get done. 

They say everything happens for a reason and I think we needed that argument in order for me to realize where my real home is.

As I laid on my bed drying my tears, slowly falling asleep and hearing the farm equipment going without me outside the window, I knew I was right where I wanted to be. I really didn't want to pack up my suitcase and go to mom's. That was stupid. There are people out there with real problems. There are people out there who don't feel safe with their husbands. 

We had a disagreement. About tempers and farm equipment. So silly.

My husband came in shortly and walked over to my side of the bed and knelt down. He apologized and thanked me for all my help this season and said that they couldn't have done it without me. I didn't want to give in. I didn't want to forgive him, but I had no reason not to.

Then we went for pizza with my in-laws to celebrate our finish. 

I was home and I want to stay home. 

Forever. 


2 comments:

  1. I am glad I am not the only one that gets homesick. I moved 3 hours away from my parents' farm. I occupy myself with hobbies when all I want to do is go see my parents and I can't.

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    Replies
    1. Jessie, that is hard! 3 hours is far enough to away that you have to plan ahead and probably stay over night.... but close enough that it's within drive distance. I am so sorry you get homesick too! We are so lucky with technology that there are a lot of ways to stay in touch with our loved ones. :) My sister in law lives out in Kansas and I miss her and her little family to pieces. If it weren't for Facebook and iphones, I'd feel lost!

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