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a home + living guide for the post-college, pre-parenthood, quasi-adult generation

06.02.2003

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big decorating dreams. tiny little budget. don't be a wallflower! jump on over to the discussion boards and get decorating help.

other recent LOUNGE articles:
o Cleaning House
o Packrat's Guide
o Make a Bolster Pillow
o Open House
o Full House
o The Other Bubble
o Placemat Curtains
o Make it a Single: an essay on solo living
o Flower Power
o Open House: New Orleans Nest
o Home Freebies
o Texture Wall Art
o Essentially Essential
o Cleaning Essentials
o Make a Pillow Sham
o Bathe in Beauty
o Decorating Scents
o Plumb Trouble

leaving home by Yee-Fan Sun | 1 2 3
continued from page 2

I don’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, I started not hating Tucson. I can't say I really love this city, but I do know that when it comes time to leave this home – and with my boy nearly done with grad school, that day’s clearly looming on the horizon now – I’ll feel a little sad, and no doubt find that, for months after moving to my next adopted city, I’ll miss the saguaro cacti and summer monsoons, margaritas and proper tortillas, this little pink stucco house: home.

So I’m on the other side of things now. At a party not too long ago I found myself in a conversation with a girl who was basically me, four years ago. “So how are you liking Tucson?” I asked. She hesitated, nose wrinkling just the slightest, shrugging off a half-hearted, “Oh, it’s alright, I guess …” I smiled, then assured her, “It’s okay; I hated it too at first.” She let out a little sigh of relief, thankful not to have to keep up the happy camper pretense; most people don’t want an honest answer to how you really feel about the place they call home.

See, that’s the thing about leaving home: if you loved your home at all, whatever unlucky place it is that finds itself your potential new home is going to find it has an awful lot to live up to. It’s a new place, a different place; it doesn’t have any of the things you loved so much about wherever it is that you happened to come from previously. And you’ll hate it for that. But give it time – a generous amount. Because slowly, slowly, you start getting to know your new home town. You find that fabulous farmer’s market, that great little club to catch cool bands, your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the best place in town to buy fresh-baked bread. You find yourself a doctor you like, a dentist you can tolerate, a mechanic you trust; you make friends with the owner of some funky little café that becomes your favorite coffee break hang-out spot. You learn you’re so much more adaptable and resilient than you could have ever imagined, to be able to leave the home someone gave you as a child, to find and make one for yourself now that you’re all (mostly) grown up.

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