You know how you can go along ignoring topics and memes that don’t interest you, until you’re suddenly receptive for some reason? Normally news about Burt Bacharach, like the review of a new show in NY ‘reimagining’ his songs, would be pretty far below my radar. But reading it last week this song title jumped out at at me.
With Hal David he eloquently wrote: a House is Not a Home. I’ve been riffing on this idea for the last week as we entered the brutal packing and prep home stretch before the house was listed. As of this moment, it’s been on the market for two hours.
Our wonderful house now feels like a department store with trendy showroom furniture. Step by step, it’s not our house any more. So I have to figure out – if I have no house, where is my home; do I still have a home? A very bleak feeling.
But it slowly dawned on me that in small ways, it feels like I do. I was sitting in the market, having a blackened salmon sandwich with one of my sons before he moved to Portland, and that felt like home. I was driving with Bruce from the dump to the Re-PC store to the thrift shop – to the car wash to clean out the mess in the back of the truck – and that felt just like home. My home has no walls. But it’s real; I can feel it. Turns out you can take it with you.