When I think about home, there are several definitions that come to mind. “Home is where the heart is”, while cliché, may be the closest to the truth. I recently went back to a job that I had for 5 ½ years but took a break after my mother-in-law died to help my husband who had sunk into the realization that he was part of the new “older” generation now. Not having any biological children, he needed me to be his support through that dark tunnel of realization. I entered the job I formerly held with nervousness and ambivalence. I had heard from so many supportive colleagues about their excitement for my return which caused even more anxiety as the new people would surely be disappointed with what they were getting and would be confused as to why others were so happy about my return.
But return I did and I was surprised at the level of comfort and security I had at returning to the familiar. My journey over the course of the past 1 ½ years while I had been away had been a journey of self discovery, new opportunities, new friends but this was more like going back home. Faces near and dear to me extending a welcome back. Hugs from colleagues who have shared the most difficult of moments such as the deaths of colleagues with whom we shared a collective work experience. While work environments are not often what we would hope them to be and oftentimes there is not time to know all of your colleagues as friends or even as humans, work is a place where we do spend time, get to know each other on a professional leve, share some moments that no one else would understand and grow with each other.
I think about the families I have gained over the past 1 ½ years. Strengthening my own family, getting to know my faith community better, adding a family of individuals who love to scrapbook and preserve memories. It has been a ride. Consistency is good. I am back home and have so many wonderful family members to share it with.