My Only Way Out

(is to go so far in)

My home

Posted by Cauri on December 13, 2006

Yesterday I was putting my shoes on to go babysit, and I started crying again about how much I missed Ryan.  I’m having such a difficult time constantly traveling between my two “homes”, neither of which is concrete.  I pulled myself together, told myself that a week from now I will be fine, and I headed out.  When I got to their door, I burst out crying again.  The mom told me she didn’t need me to babysit anyway, but why don’t I just come in, we could get Chinese food, we could bake cookies, we could drink wine, hell I could just take a nap if I needed to.  I cried for a little while, just venting about this insane amount of stress I’ve been under, and how it’s been so hard to have Ryan so far away.  I’ve been freaking out about christmas because, again with the money that I don’t have, and everything I want to get my family.  (I’ve wanted to get my dad a coffee table so badly, but every decent one is hundreds of dollars.) 

I went out back and played with their dogs for a while.  Then I came back in and played with their 18-month-old son.  We did order Chinese food.  We did drink wine.  Then the dad went up to the attic and pulled out a beautiful antique coffeetable that had just been sitting in their attic for years.  He polished it, and it looked gorgeous.  They told me to just take it.  I’m going to pick it up later today.

I realize how stupid it is to complain about such trivial things.  I know that I’m lucky to have these types of people in my life.  I realize that I’m not stressing about anything all that huge.  But I headed out to Ryan’s last night just because I’ve been having such a rough time away from him.  We snuggled and held each other and just talked for a couple hours.  I love that feeling.  I’m so lost without that, that feeling of home.  Nothing compares to being with him…that sense of family, that sense of security, that sense of completeness.  I am so ready to make him my family.  I am so ready to commit myself to him.  We could be living in a cardboard box, and I would feel safe, secure, and loved.  He is my home.


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