Today, I don’t have to go anywhere. We may go to the library because I promised the children we would this week and this week is running out of days. But I don’t have to, I don’t even particularly want to, and I’m relishing the ability to just be home.
It is a new feeling for me. For some time, the mere thought of staying home for days at a time led to restlessness and a vague sense of being trapped. I could only straighten the same rooms, mediate the same squabbles, fold the same laundry, wash the same dishes so many times before going stir crazy.
I tried not to go into town unnecessarily. We were, after all, doing our best to save wherever we could. But having something to do away from home was a relief. I even looked forward to grocery shopping, especially on the rare occasion my husband was home and agreed to take the children while I “picked up a few things.”
Like my sanity.
Living here is a little different. Part of that is because it is still new, but there’s more. The chickens keep me occupied throughout the day, I have several light remodeling projects and I’m in the midst of planning for a sizable garden as well as a small flock of geese. I have enough work to fill each day, but it is a different kind of work than just continually cleaning and moving around the same things in the endlessly tedious task of maintaining our stuff. It feels more productive because I am building and creating something new while laying a basic groundwork for our future here.
Interestingly, even my ever-present pile of laundry seems less daunting and the continual picking up behind small children less tedious.
And for the first time since leaving the workforce, I truly want to be here at home.