you are home

yesterday, i shared a moment, part of which involved my reflecting on the differences in my life this year versus last year. a similar moment happened a few days earlier specifically related to thoughts about this holiday season and christmas a year ago. this moment of reflection occurred as i was leaving work and noticing the holiday decorations that had been put up over the thanksgiving weekend that were now everywhere in our office building. seeing the wreaths, garlands, and light covered trees reminded me that this christmas was certainly going to be a different experience than last christmas, which i spent with michael.

"last year," i thought, "i went home for christmas." no sooner than that thought finished, the following realization came to me, "clarus, you are home." and with that, it became clear that as a result of the ending of my relationship with michael, i was no longer a person with two abodes, one of which i thought of as my family home and the other as my residence related to work. the latter was now one and the same.

certainly, there was a bit of sadness that came with this revelation. any loss tends to evoke that feeling. yet, at least this time, i also had a sense of the potential this new situation provided. maybe now i could finally start "settling in" here in denver, rather than have one foot here and one in st. louis. maybe now, with both feet anchored in what is frankly my preferred locality of the two (for more insight on that perspective, please take a look at the entry, stopover), i could actually have a solid foundation upon which to build a life for myself.

it was a nice moment, but brief, as i then started to realize and become intimidated by all that was entailed in actually building that life. i was also more than a little saddened by a memory of having similar thoughts when michael, and i had first committed to one another. twelve years later i was starting (what at least felt like) completely over. what assurances did i have that the attempts to forge a life here would just be more of the same fruitless effort as the twelve years before? none really and my heart sank just a bit further down.

in the song begin again that ends taylor swift's album red, there is this particularly poignant lyric that continues to echo in my heart and speaks very much to how i feel now, "i've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break, and burn and end ...." and as actually hopeful that song is, the one difference for me is that i can't begin to imagine that eight months will be the statute of limitations with respect to my own doubts about love.