How Long Until We Are Home?

Where a man feels at home, outside of where he’s born, is where he’s meant to go.

Ernest Hemingway

I have spent my entire life, up until April 2019 when we moved to Dallas, in Massachusetts. I grew up in a small central mass town, went to college in the southeastern part of the state, and lived just outside of Boston with my husband. Both of our families live in the Bay State and we were never longer than a 45 minute drive away from anyone we loved. I’m used to driving in the snow, having a Dunkin’ Donuts within arms reach, and not making eye contact with people in the grocery store.

My husband and I loved our neighborhood so much that we got married less than a mile from our apartment. It was a super local affair and felt like we were able to host our guests in our own backyard (despite not even having patio). We were on first name basis with every restaurant within a 2 mile radius and the Italian restaurant that was steps from our apartment comped our drinks and gave us extra bread-sticks when we told them we were heading down south.

Since we moved, we have been trying to carve out a space for ourselves in Dallas. We are regulars at the dog park, have a list of go to restaurants, a lot of friends. It happened quicker than I thought but I do feel at home in Dallas.

It happened quicker than I thought but I do feel at home in Dallas.

Despite fully leaning into our new life I was really excited to go back north to celebrate a friends wedding in Maine and my sister’s baby shower the following weekend. Matt went back to Dallas after the wedding and I filled the week in between seeing as many friends and family as possible and eating as much lobster as I could stand. I spent a night in Cape Cod with one of my girl friends from college, went to a Red Sox game with my family, got breakfast with my grandpa, and saw my childhood friends’ new houses.

Everything about the trip was wonderful and felt so familiar but at the same time I had the sense that I was now removed from it. Driving through the neighborhood that my husband and I made our own left me feeling sad. Like somehow it wasn’t mine anymore but the streets are still etched in my heart.

Turn left on Bridge Street, was my studio apartment, turn right was my husbands old office and just further down the road was my favorite grocery store, Russo’s. I had to stop at Russo’s because they have all of the ingredients to make my famous homemade pizza. I had perfected it back in MA and made it almost weekly, but now in Dallas I’m struggling to find good dough and sauce (more about my pizza struggles in a later post).

By the end of the week I felt terribly home sick, but not for Massachusetts, I was homesick for my husband, puppy, and our new home in Dallas. It felt bizarre because I was desperately missing the life we have created in Texas even though we have only lived here for four months. I know this sounds super cliche by while writing this last paragraph the song Home by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros has been playing in my head. Home is wherever I’m with you.

What makes you feel at home? Let me know in the comments! I’ve also included some pictures from my trip below.

Sunrise in Harwich, Cape Cod.
Fenway Park, Boston.
Had a pizza cook off with my dad, this was the winning pizza (mine of course).
My first apartment in Watertown, MA. You don’t see homes like this in Texas.

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