Time

     Over the past week I've visited MY library twice. (My former place of employment. Yet it was much more than that.) I was over in that area and it was just easier to go there and drop off my stuff then run around even more today. I say MY because I still feel like it should be MY yet I know it's not and I still have to deal with that. It was so nice to see some of what had been my extended family of sorts. But now I'm not really sure what they are. I couldn't sit and chat and catch up because I was on the other side of the desk. I wouldn't be there with them for 3 or more hours. I had a crazy four year old to run after with me. It sucked.
     It was nice to be seen and have so many people seem happy to see me and want to talk to me. With Jake I just really couldn't. I didn't get to say goodbye to a lot of people I know I'll rarely see again. Yes I can always go back and visit. Or try to visit more when I might actually be able to hold a conversation. Each time after leaving though I just feel like crying. I belonged there for so long. I was friendly with just about everybody. Knew what was going on in their lives. Had our own jokes and rhythm and what not. It's just not the same. And it won't ever be again. It's bittersweet being there.
     It's been over a month now and apparently that's not long enough. My husband can tell you, and will over and over, how I hate change. Even if it sucks I'll keep doing it 'cause it's what I know and that's easier to me. I have to remind myself that this fact is why I did work there for so long. It certainly wasn't always sunshine and roses but it's what I knew. I've had to leave what I knew and I'm still dealing with it. The same went for when I moved out of the house I grew up in. Finally at age 28. With a husband and three kids that had lived there with me too. That should have made it easier. It didn't.
     It took me a very long time to get used to this being my home. To being as comfortable in our own house as it was in MY house. I grew up there. I knew it and the area so very well. I still go back there to shop often like today because it's just easier. It's what I know. I had my twins there. My sister moved out. My mother moved out. My mother moved back in. My mother moved back out. My husband moved in. My other sister moved out. I had my daughter. Finally we all moved out.  But always my dad was there and still is. I used to go back and visit quite often with the kids. At least once a week if not more. I just felt more comfortable there. It wasn't my home anymore but I was more comfortable there than in my own home yet. I wish I knew how long it took me to not feel that way anymore.
     I know it was a long while. It didn't matter all the work we put into making this our house right from the get go. It wasn't home. It didn't feel like home. And it wouldn't feel like home for at least a few months I believe. Maybe longer. I guess it's good because it was gradual and it just happened. I can hope that it'll just happen all over again with my extra home and extended family. Though I don't have a new one to get used to or to replace the old. Will that make a difference in dealing with it?