Each time I heard Chip Gaines say “Welcome home,” to the homeowners at the end of the HGTV show Fixer Upper, I cried. I think it’s because I’ve never experienced that feeling of walking into the home I want to stay in for the rest of my life. After I was married, the first place I lived in was a garage apartment behind my in-law’s house. From then on, big moves to other cities–away from my hometown-happened because of job opportunities. Those locations dictated where we ended up paying rent or committing to a mortgage. Now that I’m 50, I’d like to settle into a house I know is home for good.
Data collection
I’ve been working on figuring this out for a while, but mainly in my head and on the pages of my journals. To give me some data to work with, other than my own, I started asking my family this question: Where is home? I thought surely they would say that it was in the city where we spent most of our lives, but I was wrong.
“I love where I am,” my brother said about living in Missouri. “And I love my house.”
“This is home now,” was my dad’s response when I asked him the question. “I miss the old house (the one I grew up in), but this is home.” Home for my parents is in a beach town that they moved to years ago because of my dad’s job. And as I tell people all the time, my parents don’t beach. So, for them, it’s an unlikely place to settle, but the act of physically moving is hard, so they’ve stayed.
What struck me about these responses was that both my brother and my dad knew their answers. They did not hesitate and responded assuredly. While I, on the other hand, have been wrestling with the answer to the question for so many years.
What are you doing here?
I teach a yoga class to a group of active seniors. One day, as I listened to them talk, I realized that none of them are native Texans like I am. They are all retired, but transported from places like Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Indiana. When the ladies were reminiscing over the beauty of these places, I wondered why they would ever want to leave it. I couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing here?
“It’s cheaper,” was one lady’s response.
“My kids live here,” another said.
“Money,” I heard come from somewhere in the circle.
I get it. Those are logical reasons that people settle in one place. When you retire you want to live comfortably, so cost is necessary to consider. You may even want to live where your children and grandchildren are. Being a grandparent myself, in addition to being a kid who spent lots of time with her grandparents, I understand that too. What I learned from these ladies is that the answer to the question “where is home” begins with the right city. Selecting the four walls to surround you can come later.
Where do you wanna be buried?
Although my yoga students have chosen the location of home based on the cost of living as well as the people they want to live near, I believe that the decision can also come down to the right cemetery. It’s important to ask yourself where you wanna be buried. Getting acquainted with the look and feel of the cemeteries a city offers is a must before committing to a place. The cemeteries in the town where I live are unimpressive and uninviting. One is off of a busy street across from a barbecue place. While the brisket nearby is outstanding, that location doesn’t say peaceful. Another cemetery is sandwiched in between a gas station and a Subway close to an even busier street than the other one–not idyllic.
Because I’ve taken a hard look at the places for final rest around me, I’ve come to two conclusions. First, I don’t want to be buried in the city where I currently live. Second, someone looking for a forever home needs to start by visiting cemeteries, not neighborhoods. Instead of going house shopping, one should go plot shopping. The truth is that people can’t be buried in their backyards, no matter how lovely or tranquil they are.
Instinct calls you home
The cemetery where my grandparents rest is peaceful, vast, and welcoming. It is full of large trees, hills, green grass and is set far back from the road. That’s where I’d like to be buried. This cemetery is also located in a city that is meaningful to me; I grew up there. It contains the Catholic church where I made my first communion, as well as the one where my grandparents and parents were married. Nestled within this city are the homes of both sets of my grandparents. In fact, some of my relatives still live in them. On one street, not far from my grandparents’ homes, though the house looks very different now, is the place where I lived for 19 years.
The romantic in me yearns to return to the place that reminds me most of family. Remembering them helps me to remember who I am. I currently live in a bougie suburb of a major city that I don’t even like visiting. Even though I do worry that suburban life has spoiled me with its spacious streets and new buildings, I’m trying to listen to my heart.
On paper, and in my fantasies, the Mexican American writer that I am longs to create in the place where she was born. She wants to be inspired by the people and the traditions. That’s my answer to where home is. If I never do move back to my hometown in this lifetime, I still want to buried near my ancestors. Although–I’ll probably need a tour guide who speaks both Spanish and English to introduce me to everyone when I get there.
