Home

Yesterday, one of my little people broke the glass that housed my air plant. I didn’t reprimand or yell ( thank GOD), I simply scooped the plant out from among the shattered glass and placed it on the countertop. This morning, as I searched for something to put it in, I found this  glass teapot and thought: “this would be a perfect, new home.”

Just one month ago, we were living in Panama City Beach – with places we liked and people who seeped into us, like tea, making life a little sweeter. A few days before we moved, our dear friends visited and prepared and served a fancy three-course meal on white paper plates.

We ate appetizers, played scrabble, and listened to each other’s stories.

A scrumptious Shrimp Creole simmered in the pot, music serenaded us in the background,  and just before we ate, the overhead lights were turned off and we ate dinner by candlelight.  Palates pleased, we walked to the beach, spread a blanket, and watched orange, pink and reds dance across the sky.  The realization of our move began that night and so did the ache. We braved our way through a few goodbyes that night and I tried not to think about saying goodbye to Barbara.

Barbara is my 82-year-old BFF. ( A bit of advice here: I recommend you start your search for a friend at least twenty years older than you). For two years, I knocked on Barbara’s door, and she invited me in as though she had been waiting for me. Depending on the time, she’d served me coffee or wine, and we would sit on her couch and talk for hours about books, marriage, children, aging, food, sages and “dumb ass” people.

The morning we walked over to bid her farewell, Barbara’s tears hung on her eyelid. “Damn it, Barbara,” she said to herself, “ You promised not to cry—you even practiced.” We laughed.  Tears fell and six of us – hubby and the kids included- huddled in a group hug.  Barbara’s hand trembled when she raised them to wave farewell,  and as I drove down Front Beach Road, I felt an ache in my chest. I honored my tears by letting them fall down my face.

We moved to Fairhope a month ago, and like my air plant, we are in a new place –  it takes time to create home.  Home, for me, is friends lounging on my couch and cooking in my kitchen. Home is laughter that turns to tears and moves me from the couch to the floor. Home is drinking coffee, sipping wine and in time, unfolding though stories with new people.

Kadine Christie