Compost Studios

It’s been almost two years since we moved to Belgium, and I haven’t been back to America yet. Homesickness comes and goes.

Some days I can envision living in Belgium indefinitely, other days I long to slip back into my old life and leave all the complexities of expat life behind.

In 2007, we’ll have to make some major decisions about where we’ll be living and what we’ll be doing in the coming years, but today my mind isn’t parsing financial considerations, evaluating career plans, debating which schools provide the best learning environment for my two very different children, or weighing the pros and cons of the commuting life. No, today my mind is stuck on my house in Virginia and how much I miss it.

I can visualiz the way the light flowed through the windows during the different seasons, flooding through the bare maple tree branches in winter and leaving bright squares of light for the pets to curl up in on the carpet. In the spring, the sunlight took an indirect approach, bathing everything in a soft, peachy glow.

We had a open two-story foyer with a dormer at the top that was perfectly positioned to frame the full moon and direct a a shaft of silvery light onto the steps at night. How often did I climb those steps in moonlight to comfort a crying child? How many nights did I pause on the landing and admire the stars twinkling through the dormer window?

As the days grow cold, gray, and wet in Belgium, I desperately miss my fireplace with the gas logs that drove the chill from so many chilly mornings and evenings at home. Unpacking my Christmas decorations, I envisioned the way I arranged everything on the oak mantel and see the pine trees that separate our house from our neighbor's outside the big family room windows.

I loved the silky feel of the hardwood floors under my bare feet in our bedroom, and the bright lighting and Nantucket look of the master bath. In a world where I share a single shower stall with my entire family, I can’t describe how much I miss having my own bathroom and soaking in my Jacuzzi, unknotting my muscles, retreating from the day's stress. I even miss my hot water heater. I never have enough hot water here.

I miss the view of the azaleas and from the dining room and the bird feeders outside the kitchen windows, the sound of E’s footsteps on the deck, the crackle and shuffle from the drifts of oak and maple leaves against the house, the patter of acorns on the roof each fall. I miss stepping out my front door and walking across the lawn to the mailbox for the morning newspaper and the afternoon mail.

I miss my linen closet with its stacks of soap, fresh sheets, and towels and my sweaters folded on the top shelf. I miss having a kitchen cabinet and drawer to accommodate all my dishes and utensils, being able to walk through my attic with ease and find what I was looking for, having a vanity to stow things in in every bathroom, plus a walk in closet that let all my clothes hang in one place.

I miss seeing my kids on the swing set in the backyard and watching them play soccer and baseball there. I loved my split rail fence and round-topped garden gate trimmed with a seasonal Welcome sign. I miss the world beyond my gate, the sights I’d see on my morning walk around the lake in our neighborhood…

We still own our house in Virginia, but whether we’ll return to it any time soon is unknown. We may extend our stay in Belgium—or return on time in 2008. We may move back into our old house and try to resume the lifestyle and jobs we held before, or we may move into the city. We may even consider expat life in another country. Who knows? For now the uncertainty recedes and leaves just the comforts of home in my memory.

December 8, 2006