Carry Me Home

I would like to state first that I love Charm City.  I think it has many....charms.  It's a foodie city, with lots of amazing restaurants and chefs willing to meet the demand for fresh local fare done creatively and done well.  That being said, this is not "home" to us.  I hope that someday it will be more so, but currently it's a waiting place, a place we've been placed that we're nesting in.

We have never hidden the fact that living in England was the single most life changing experience for us as newlyweds.  We found not only our feet as a couple, but also ourselves.  And while the country is certainly not perfect (we've discussed that we would not want to only be citizens of Britain), it is the place that we call home.

 Nothing like a summer drive in Britain.....Sophie was often along.

Over the last 6-8 months it has become acutely noticeable that that will not change. We can be driving and instead of pleasant conversation we're both trying to come up with how to get back, powwow-ing ideas of escape. On a sunny day I can close my eyes while driving and almost convince myself we're winding on the road to Bury St. Edmunds.  Driving into a Ellicott City, I can almost convince myself we're there going up those twisting hills.  I did not get up to watch the Royal Wedding this morning, but I did catch the tail end of it, and when they mentioned Cambridge, my mind instantly flew home to the roads I could probably drive in my sleep.

Picnic at the Abbey.

When G and I first discovered I was pregnant, one of the first things out of my mouth was, "I want to go home now."  G always dreamed of pushing our SilverCross pram around the Abbey (have I ever mentioned that we have a vintage 1964 black and white SilverCross pram?).  I want to take them to the Christmas Fayres.  I want to hold our child while their daddy runs the charity Santa run.  And we want to picnic on the Abbey grounds watching the ducks.  And when our favorite tea room in England wished us congratulations during the announcement yesterday I broke down because my child may not attend afternoon tea there for a long time. (While trying for children while living there before I had dreamed of bringing a plump baby for tea time.)

It is not an easy thing to admit.  That the place you were born and raised is not "home" in your mind.  People get offended, taking it as a slight to themselves.  But I believe that every person has a place that just feels more like them.  So we have spent much time in conversation, discussing options.  G and I will eventually end up back here in Charm City because that is where his career field is really centered.  However, we are quite desperately trying to figure out how to get home before a second child.  And I'm a wee bit heartbroken because I'm not certain it's possible.

Still, I am a generally positive person.  I believe we'll find a way home, someday.  Until that moment arrives, then I will just try and bring England here.  My friends have expressed great interest in this thing called clotted cream (which I make from scratch), so hopefully we'll be doing tea soon.  And we're looking into having the SilverCross pram completely restored to used as a bassinet in our bedroom for now (we have a brown corduroy one that will be perfect for pushing around the gardens here....yes we packed up 2 prams from England).  We simply will carry on until we find a way to carry me home.

Grey and Rainy Bliss

Today the clouds overhead feel like a down comforter making the city all fluffy and compressed.  We overslept and for once we accepted it as is rather than arguing over the whys.  G got up before I even knew we'd overslept and put the kettle on.  And I call him on his cell while he's in the kitchen asking him to bring the Bible, we've missed Mass.  No panic, just simple motions to fulfill what we consider requirements of the day.

And we'll go for coffee and read The Post and we'll discuss the future and all the uncertainties of life.  Grey days like this very seldom make me feel sad, instead them remind me of home, of the way the grey would change the green fields, of how you simply get used to it.  Grey is one of my favorite colors so why should I mind days such as these?  

And I turned as I was walking out of our bedroom and said, "I would move to London before Paris any day."  I didn't find it to be an odd statement but he says that it surprises him.  And it surprises me that it surprises him.  After all, I say, Paris is a lovely fantasy where you can pretend everything is always delightful.  But London, with her docks and her business and the hustle and bustle that has existed for centuries is more real, more me.  

I remember when I was 18 and we were on the train from Paris to London and my heart was breaking with each turn of the wheels, each tiny town with red tiled roofs we passed.  I thought it was unbearable.  And then I spent 2 days in London and knew I had found home.  I came home and forced myself to learn to like tea, a substance I cannot function without now but that I could not stand the taste of then.  I never could put a finger on the why, and I didn't really care.  But today I did.  

I would still prefer the English town to London.  To our favorite little town with the abbey and the cafes and the market.  Less smog (did you know that if you are out and about in London for even a day you will have grey snot for days?).  I long to wander down the twisty cobblestone road to my favorite little place for ice cream on my way to walking the abbey.  I long to hear the teenage boys yelling out the price of their strawberries, competing against one another.  

So grey and rainy days are a bliss I look forward to as for a moment I can lie back in bed and pretend that today we are headed to the market and a cafe au lait at our place.  And the world is right and good again.