Moving

I know they say you can't go home again. 

I just had to come back one last time.

- Miranda Lambert

Who says you can't go home? 

There's only one place they call me one of their own.

- Bon Jovi

To be frank, this week was quite exhausting.

I spent the better part of it on call for work. Being a therapist who works primarily out of the emergency room and urgent care, being on call typically means I only get called in if there's a patient who is either suicidal or homicidal, and the ER staff isn't quite sure how to field the problem.

Thankfully, most cases like this are pretty straight forward - someone comes in in distress and the ER staff (honestly amazing people) help them find a hospital bed where they can begin working with a counselor and psychiatrist to address whatever the problem may be.

This week, there were a handful of cases that walked through the door that however, weren't straight forward - and I ended up getting called in.

...and while we still don't know everything about mental illness, my 9 years in the field have taught me that if you're on call, you're more likely to get called in once the sun goes down.


I very quickly regretted taking so many on call shifts this week. I had taken Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. When I hadn't gotten called in by Friday, I made the mistake of considering myself lucky.

I was at the hospital from midnight until 2 that night. Then again at 10 the next morning to sign some paperwork - and again at 5 that afternoon.


Never consider yourself lucky when you work in a hospital.








Either way, between the ER staff and me, we got the patients that needed help taken care of, and I was able to mow the yard and take care of a couple of other things around the house I meant to do (namely, finished 2 pages on the Cherokee children's book) before Sunday hit - because Sunday, I was headed to go to Bartlesville to help my parents move to their new home in Sand Springs.

_______________________

Have you ever heard a turtle having sex?

It's honestly one of the strangest, most adorable sounds you'll ever hear.

If you haven't, let me enlighten you:

I mention that because apparently, it's turtle mating season. They were on the road EVERYWHERE as I made my way to Bartlesville. Every time turtle mating season hits, I can't help but think that every cute little turtle I see making their slow trek across a busy road is in a relative hurry to get somewhere to make this sound. 

Nature is magical. 

I ended up stopping to take a picture of this guy because he was the biggest non-snapping turtle I'd ever seen in the wild.








When I finally got to Bartlesville, I was happy to see that about half of the large things that needed to be moved had already been moved.

My little brother Adam had gone down on Saturday and helped with the first gigantic load.

We worked for the better part of the day getting things boxed up, hauled out, and neatly stacked in the rented truck that my parents had - which, moving with my engineer step dad was an experience in itself as our versions of loading a U-Haul truck were very different.

I'll give you one guess as to whose version took longer and was more strategic.







Towards the end of the day we actually made the trip - my parents in the truck with their two dogs, and me in my car with Jack, the cat.

Now, I'm not one to believe in conspiracies, but when they were able to fit two dogs in the truck with them, but offered that I take the cat - I should have known something was up.

That cat bitched the whole way.

The. Whole. Way.

I mean honestly, it was like riding with banshee. I talked to him. I patted the crate. I took slow turns, and tried to drive as smoothly as my car would let me. 

At one point, I even tried to sing to him - I think because I spent too much time around Disney princesses last week. 

He wasn't having any of it. 

He didn't want to be in the crate. He didn't want to be in the car. 

...and he was going to make it known. 

_______________________

I was thankful that I got there before Adam had to head back to his home in Topeka. Apparently his fiance's work had a dinner that he needed to go to that evening, but I still got to see him and he was able to stay around long enough to help us load some stuff, and then to join us for lunch at Simple Simons.








I miss that kid, I truly do.


I thought about that a lot this weekend, mostly while I was in Bartlesville helping box up my mom's house. Family really is a funny, hard to define thing when you think about it.









Ordinarily, you start your life off with people that you grow accustomed to. These are the people you learn to socialize with, you learn to love, and the people you use as a point of reference for most other relationships in your life.

But what happens when things change?





Growing up in a blended family has always made it tough to describe my "family". I've had siblings at times, been an only child at times, and acquired new siblings as an adult. The home I grew up in went away. Most of the people I grew up with did the same.


Even now, I'm married and raising two children whose births I wasn't present for.





But still, I've never felt like I didn't belong somewhere.

I've never felt like I didn't have a "family".

_______________________

So then, what does that word really mean? How can you describe "home"?










For me, it's less about the definition and more about the feeling you get when you're around someone. It's about the connection you feel to a person, and the capacity to which you want them to be in your life.









When I call my step dad for advice, I don't feel like I'm asking a friend. I feel like I'm asking a father.


When I spend time with my kids, I don't feel like I'm watching another man's children. I feel like I'm with my guys. Two of the few people in this world that I'd die for if it meant keeping them safe.

Family isn't about someone having your last name, or living under the same roof as you. Sure, that can be part of it - and often times, it can make it easier to build a relationship or find things you have in common - but it's not crucial.





It's about knowing someone, but still wanting them around. Letting them see you when you're hurt or scared, and not feeling vulnerable. It's about loving someone and putting them before you when it counts.

It's a few of the people I grew up with and a few of the people I've met along the way. It's the woman I married and those that came with her. It's my friends, my coworkers, and even a few of my neighbors.


To me, that's family - and my family is huge.