Having returned to my home of the last 5.5 years yesterday. (it has only been 2 weeks since I left), I found that I felt like an intruder. It no longer feels like home. Equally the house where I am living with my mother doesn’t feel like home either. At the moment it is the place where I am living. Perhaps in time that will change. The thought that neither place feel like home had me feeling kind of homeless which makes me a little sad.
They say that home is where the heart is, I am finding this difficult to accept at the moment. I love my mum so why doesn’t this feel like home. I guess it is because I still feel like a visitor. Different routines, different food, different tv/radio choices. We are both trying to keep our normal routines without interfering with each other. We are enjoying each other’s company and being able to do little things for each other. But it isn’t home.
Today I went for a walk around the Town Center, it is only a few minutes walk from the house. I have not lived in this town for 5.5 years but in that time although it is still familiar there have been many changes. Not big changes but changes all the same. I doubt that many people who were still living here during this time would have noticed so many small changes.
One thing I did notice was that in the doorway where the BIG Issue lady always stood there was a homeless man wrapped in blankets sitting in the doorway. A few doors further along the road was a woman in a sleeping bad with a case of all her belongings next to her. Again a few more doors along was another woman in a sleeping bag huddled against the window frame, her bags of belongings close by. This is not something that was a common sight in the middle of the day in this town.
This took my thoughts in two directions. When my step son was visiting from California over Christmas he commented that he didn’t see many homeless people, perhaps the cold wet weather here prevents people from being homeless. I pointed out to him that the weather would have no impact on whether someone was homeless or not. He just hadn’t been too close to places where they were. I do remember from our visit to California 4 years ago that there the homeless were on street corners shouting about their plight. You couldn’t avoid/miss them. Here maybe our homeless people are less obvious.
My other thought was that even though I don’t feel like I have a home right now I am so lucky to have somewhere to live. I have often said and I do believe, no matter how bad things get there are always others who are worse off.
Today the weather has been wet and windy. I don’t normally mind the wind, the rain I can cope with depending on where I am and what I am doing.
Being a Wednesday I was out delivering parcels ( I do this Monday to Saturday). It was damp but not too wet as I loaded my car with the parcels for the day. I guess I was about a quarter of the way through my round when the weather picked up. I don’t mind rain, my hair was cut short yesterday so I wasn’t too worried about the weather effect on my hair, I’m not so keen on the rain on my glasses which I now wear all day.
Once or twice I found that the wind was becoming troublesome when opening/closing doors. One door to a block of flats slammed in the wind almost pulling my arm out of its socket but I soon recover from the shock of that. Later in my round the wind was getting stronger, it just so happens that Wednesday is the day each week that the wheelie bins are emptied on my round. I am used to dodging the truck as it makes its way through the streets I am attempting to make my deliveries to. Today I had the added problem of bins that had been relieved of their contents suddenly racing across roads into my path.
It has been a little over a week since I told my husband that I would be staying with my mother for an undetermined period. I spoke to him today, he told me that he has been looking into his rights regards divorce. He also told me that he has stopped wearing his wedding ring. He was surprised that I am still wearing mine.
He later said that he does want me back but he knows it will have to be on my terms.
I have no idea what the future holds for us right now.
Yesterday my son and his fiancee came for lunch, I hadn’t seen them for months (they live in London). Now that I am living with my mother that will change. This couple who so clearly love each other very much are going to make me into a Granny for the first time in a few months time. They are growing a grandson for me to cherish.
I have been asked to make a patchwork quilt for the little one. I have been gathering fabric for this project. The last time I did anything like this was for my youngest child who is now 22.
I don’t have access to a sewing machine so just like the previous one every stitch will be made with love.
Well this is the third time in my adult life that I have ended up living back home with my mum. The first time I was in my early 20s, I had been abandoned by my older boyfriend. I had stayed on in the bedsit we had been renting until the end of our contract.
The second time was just prior to having my first son. I had been living in a bedsit in Tunbridge Wells, I didn’t know whether my baby’s father would stand by me, it was winter and I went to stay with my mum until after the birth, we stayed for 4 months before finding our own place.
Now 30 years later here I am again. It feels very strange to be in my mid fifties, living with my mum. We are looking after each other. I have to tr hard not to interfere and do things for her that she would normally do for herself. I have however emptied the vacuum cleaner for her and carry the laundry basket up or downstairs for her. I do know that I am scheduled to get into the cupboard under the stairs to read the gas and electricity meters for her.
I’m not sure how I feel about having my meals made for me, it is good to have someone else doing the cooking but odd not doing the meal planning.
I am used to spending the time I am with my mum just talking for hours on end, sitting quietly reading or snoozing in between conversations is something I am having to get accustomed to.
We are planning to get a new bird feeder, one that will be positioned where we can both see it. I did my first laundry wash today, it has been years since I last dried my clothes on the radiators.
Feeling rather weak after my delivery round whilst suffering from a rotten cold, I am beginning to get my appetite back. I fancied making a cheese and beetroot sandwich providing that the bread I bought last week hasn’t gone off.
Surprisingly when I got home my husband was sat in the kitchen watching tv and drinking beer. He made me a cup of tea for which I am grateful, and said he had bought me some lunch. I was then presented with a plate containing a wrap. I so appreciate the effort but when he told me it was my favourite I was excited to eat a mexican chicken wrap. What I found in front of me was southern fried chicken. We have been together for over 6 years, surely by now he must know that I never ever eat southern fried chicken of any description from any source.
I have lost count of the number of times we have discussed which wraps I like and which I don’t. I would rather he didn’t bother, than get it wrong every time.