Ribbons on my Fingers

Jess writes:

Needless to say, I miss good ol' clam chowder (Cape Cod style, of course). The funny thing is, I didn't realize how much I missed good ol' clam chowder until our recent trip back to Massachusetts in October. I can honestly say that growing up, the smell of that creamy concoction wouldn't have made me blink an eye, and yet, our first afternoon in Concord, the mere whiff of that cup-o-wonderfulness made me swoon. Quite seriously.

I guess its got me thinking about what we miss in our day-to-day lives... and more importantly, what we forget to miss. (How could I have ever forgotten about the everyday beauty of Cape Cod clam chowder?) So I realize now, with our days to departure drawing nearer, that I am far more conscious of such things than in the past. That is, when I have gone someplace for an extended time before, I have been very aware of what I might miss, but never very aware of what I might forget to miss. It's a funny concept...

On my first trip to France - at a precarious age of 16 - I was very aware that I would miss talking to my friends for two to three hours every night and I would become quickly aware that my hair dryer was not compatible. And yet, even after that short trip, it was the feel of my dog's fur that made me feel most at home when I returned.

When I left for college - at a horribly more precarious age of 18 - I was certain that the lack of my own washer/dryer (and mom's help!) and a full fridge would be the greatest possible misery of life away. But after three months away, it was the way my body sank perfectly into the couch cushions to watch a family movie that reminded most of home.

Perhaps the most obvious examples are those that are most foreign - a year abroad, a trip to the other side of the world - these were months and years when it seemed like such a long, long time to be so far, far away. And at times, I missed everything about home. But still, I was always astonished at how much I had forgotten to miss when I returned... the smell of BBQ's, the ease of talking, the chill of air conditioning, driving a car (ha!)!!

And while Paris and Asia may seem the most exotic, the period of time spent "away" from some "home" that has struck me the most has been my time here, in Illinois. It is the first time, in my life, that I have felt the full effect of those things that I had forgotten to miss. And it wasn't until that trip back to Massachusetts that I found myself saying aloud, "Oh, I hadn't thought about ____(fill_in_the_memory)_____ in ____(fill_in_the_number)____ years!" It turns out, those statements kinda throw you off a bit...

So what's the point?

Well, I've come to realize that those super, uber important icons of home that we forget to miss aren't lost because of a lack of past memories, but quite the opposite, because of the creation of new ones. The last few years have helped me to realize that we spend a lot of our lives creating new "homes" wherever we go, and the great deal of time and effort that goes into that process leaves little room in our limited space that we call a memory for all the nuances of our previous "homes".

Thus, and most importantly, these last few years have taught me that because those super, uber important icons of home fade, we must be diligent about returning home, or to our many homes, in order to remember. So that the creation of a new home doesn't entirely replace the very special place of our homes before... So that the smell of stewing clam chowder doesn't fall so far to the past that we can't recognize its unique place in our life...

It reminds me: Before one departure, my mom bought me a placard that read, "Go out and see the world, but come home for love." I realize now how very important that sentiment is. We go out to college, to travel, to serve... but we come home for family, for friends, for memories... We come home for "home".

I look forward to our new home in South Africa... but I also look forward to those return trips home - to revisiting, in their various locations, the small pieces of ourselves that remain a part of those places and that remind us to miss them so carefully. Simply put, I look forward to remembering what I have forgotten to miss, so that I can miss it lovingly again.