My husband has been here in this country longer than where he was born. His parents sent him to school here when he was 14 so he’s been here longer than anywhere else. That got me thinking, what does it feel like when you’ve had your married name longer than your maiden name? My grandmother did- she married young and celebrated her 60th wedding anniversary the year she passed. 

In my own life I feel more connected to my married name, that’s my kids last name and it’s the name I’ve have my whole professional life-when I was still a professional! It’s the name I sign on report cards, checks, cards, emails. It’s the nickname my husband calls me. But there are still times when I am in my home and it doesn’t feel like my home. My mind always goes back to my childhood home. Where my grandmother used to make my bed with the nicest smelling sheets ever. Maybe it’s that every kid feels like their childhood home is home. There’s the smells and the comfort and the feeling of safety. When you have your own home you are a grown up and you are the one who has to pay bills and plan trips and make sure the house is clean, your job is to take care of everyone else in the house. But when do your attachments become your here and now and not your past? I think it’s interesting that most people at the end of their life think back to their childhood- is it because they were happy and carefree back then? Do people ever look back to midlife and think fondly? It makes me wonder am I rushing through the day to day right now- doing chores and taking care of everyone, picking everything up and just trying to find a few minutes a day for me, that I am not making fun memories or lasting memories? I was trying to think about who I am and it got me wondering, I know I like to read and I like to write, but what else? I spend so much time taking care of everyone else, and trying to keep things in order. So when I reach the point of having my last name longer than my maiden name in seven years, how will that feel? What will that be like? I am hoping there’s always a little part of me as me still always with me and I hope that I can one day feel like my home, is home, not the home where my grandparents raised me. 


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