Cathy Deutsch

Word Count 465

Since I left for college I have lived in eleven places. Some dwellings brief, others with the false expectation that it would be forever. Each had its comforts as well as difficulties, be they structural or relational. The furniture I dragged from apartment to house back to yet another apartment did give a sense of familiarity making it feel “homey”, but if I was unsettled within myself, or focusing on someone else's happiness, no chest of drawers could comfort.

For a few years I lived in an ashram where I practiced meditation to discover “the home within”. I found a potent place of inner silence unbound by walls or body – a“home” no matter where I was or with whom.

Once, when my daughter was around eight years old, she had a hard day and was crying in her bed. Nothing seemed serious, just the exhaustion of a long day full of the demands of school, homework, having to be social and present for too many hours. I wrapped her in my arms, gently shushing as I tried to rock her into calm. All she could say between sobs was, “Mommy, I want to go home”. My heart broke as this plea plunged me into sadness and self doubt. Did the home I had made for the two of us not feel safe?

She had fairy nets above her bed, angel dolls to calm and dream catchers to keep worried thoughts away. My always open arms, stuffed fuzzies and pink cupcakes were not enough. I had no answer for her. Eventually she did fall asleep, her face moist from tears, her arms and legs wrapped around me like lovers fallen asleep.

I did not sleep that night, turning this stone in my heart over and over for hours until I found the very same longing in myself, though I had never articulated it as clearly as she did. Haven't we all had this inexplicable feeling, this longing to be home even though we are surrounded by all our possessions and loved ones?

I am taken back to what I learned in my meditation practice. As humans, we are instinctively reaching for some kind of greater union–not necessarily religious or spiritual–but a quiet connection to our deepest selves. When I watch nature moving about its business, I see that it's all about survival; protecting the queen, or the nest full of just born chicks. They, in a way, are lucky to have such simplicity. Every day we walk holding the stone of yearning and it is often heavy. Sometimes, when we remember to take a moment to follow our breath into that deep stillness, the heaviness is released. The sigh is the relief of finding ourselves home. That would be what I call a good day.

Cathy is a freelance writer, essayist, former restaurant columnist, and word game enthusiast. She recently published an essay for The Inside Press, where she is a regular contributor, on her beloved Rolling Stones, In Honoring Charlie Watts.