I'm in Madison again. And for a brief window of time I am thrown back into my old environs while I see doctors, visit with friends, and enjoy some uninterrupted time on the computer while my husband is away camping with the more difficult to manage sons. It is strange to be back home, but not at home. I am here, but temporarily nesting in other peoples' homes, moving from one to another, as their schedules permit.
Yesterday I was driving home from the grocery store, listening to the radio and explaining what a "curb" is to Destructo. Because I am talking, I am on auto-pilot. I didn't realize that we were turning onto our old street until Destructo asked me where we were going. I drive by our house slowly, noting the light that is left on, the yard that needs to be mowed, the gate in the fence that needs to be shut.... The tears well, but I swallow and they pass. I know it isn't our house for the moment. I contemplate the fact that we have the luxury of holding onto the title while we are away and knowing that it doesn't really make a bit of difference, I take small comfort in thinking that, if we wanted to, we could kick out these interlopers and move right back in whenever we want to. I move on to thinking about our family returning to the States in a single year instead of three.... but quickly trip over the fact that it will have to get very ugly indeed over there to make that decision to return sooner a reality.
I switch off those thoughts and continue to drive, looping around the block and back in the direction of the friend's house where we stay, for now, habitually calling it "home" but quickly scratching the word out as soon as it leaves my mouth.
Only two more weeks until we really are home in our charming Winsome Cottage, in the countryside of England. The wait is starting to wear me down. I am ready to start living our new life over there and feel like I am stuck in-between.