Homeless

Disclaimer: The trip to Utah was much needed and more fun than not. But since a few people expressed jealousy on the good old FB, I decided to show some of my ugly. Really, I'm the last person to be deserving of such a wasted emotion.

Jocee and I had been looking forward to this trip for 10 weeks.
I had been looking forward to this very weekend for six months.

At 9 1/2 months in, I'm almost used to unexpected emotions surfacing at the most inopportune/awkward/unexpected times. So none of this should have been a shock, but it was.

The final flight touched down in Salt Lake City at 4:30 pm. Tears welled in my eyes as soon as I could see the mountains. I didn't realize just how much I had missed them. They remind me of Ben; I don't know anyone else who hiked (or backpacked, or camped, or fished) them more.

The last time I had landed here was in August; almost a year ago. I had both girls in tow. Ben was the one picking us up...to take us home. And now Ben wouldn't be waiting at baggage claim to hug me more tightly than he had in weeks. This thought nearing leveled me.

I got our things from baggage claim by myself. All 5'2" of me must have made lugging 1 suitcase, 1 car seat, 2 carry-ons, and 1 three-year-old in an umbrella stroller look easy. Not a single...gentleman...offered to help. Knowing that Ben would have never let this happen, I angrily concluded that... All the good men aren't taken. They're dead.

Oh but seriously, I should have had someone take a picture. I have a whole system worked out should this same scenario play out in the future. I really did look like like I knew what I was doing.

The drive to Springville was sobering. Each exit off the freeway brought a memory. And yet this place no longer felt like home. Things that were once so familiar felt so foreign; like a distant dream I just woke up from. I asked myself when this had happened, and I didn't like the answer.

It happened that day the news caught my attention; that day a cop softly knocked on my door to try to tell me something I didn't want to be true. In that moment, the townhome we were renting was no longer home. And I haven't had that feeling since.

In so many ways that man was my anchor.
In the last...almost 10 months I've been essentially homeless.
When I made the horrid decision to stay there, I was desperately clinging to whatever I thought I still had. But instead I learned some lessons the hard way, and ended up three thousand miles away regardless.

And even now, living with my parents in the place I spent most of my life, that feeling of home is still missing. It's gone, and I may not ever have it back.

Ben was my home.
Ben was my anchor.
Ben was my safe place to land.

I love him, and I miss him; more than I could ever convey.