On the day I went away
Was all I had to say
I want to come again and stay
Smile, and that will mean I may
'Cause I've seen blue skies
Through the tears in my eyes
And I realize I'm going home*
In May of 1998, after spending my third South Dakota winter fighting chronic bronchitis so serious I was on disability for two months, my mother invited me back to California to work for her once more, and I took the offer, because I honestly believed it was the best thing for me.
Ultimately, it was, but the first six weeks I was there were total hell, first because the apartment that was supposed to be ready for us, was NOT, and second because it was the first time in our marriage that Fuzzy and I had been separated, and it wasn't just for a night or two.
Until Fuzzy arrived with the moving truck in mid-June, I'd felt homeless, and even though we went back to a tiny one-bedroom apartment that first night, I knew that it was home, because he was there.
(Yeah, I get mushy when I'm tired.)
*”I'm Going Home,” The Rocky Horror Picture Show