Billy Joel wrote a song “You’re My Home” (click here to listen on You Tube), and I may have even written about this once before, but now that I’m here at Mony’s place, 3000 miles away from everything I’ve ever known (not the first time), and after all the rough patches life has brought her and I, and… after all the drama of life that just comes my way (like everyone else), being here with her and feeling that sense of security, warmth, love and peace, I can even better grasp the idea and feelings of her being my home.
When she comes to see me back in Jersey, my house is filled with a sense of peace and warmth and my four walls feel like a home… but now that I am here, I truly get what that means more than I thought before. Her four walls are just four walls, no matter how well she decorates or how beautifully matched her couch is to her curtains, it’s just space without her and if this was a single room in some hotel on some side of the road in some place where the mayor was the sheriff, the barber, the shop keeper and the postman… with her in that box it would feel like home.
Long distance relationships are not easy on the spirit and the heart, they are not easy on the body and mind, and I believe far to many people give up far to soon because of the hardships the miles can cause, the different lives we lead and trying to make all that space, time and differences work when we’re not in the same space is a challenge. However if we step back a minute and see just what we can learn from these struggles, we might find more and more reasons to hold on and less and less reasons to end the struggle.
Is it really a struggle to spend countless hours together over the web of phone when the reward is so great? What a wonderful moment it can be when after weeks or months you wrap your arms around eachother and just hold on. What an amazing feeling it is when you realize (or remember) that it truly isn’t the material things that make the people but the people that make the things, that warm the space, that give you the sense of comfort and security. Looking at how hard it can be is not the way we should remember the days it’s all those great and wonderful new things (and old) that we need to focus on to keep the relationship alive.
There was a story I was told, I was handed a plastic fork by a pastor and he said: “Every Sunday we have a potluck dinner and everyone brings in their share of foods and deserts. Now not everything on that table is good, in fact some of it is terrible, but everyone does there best to try and be polite and eat what everyone has shared. And some people choke back the foods, but not one person ever throws away their fork… why? Because at the end of the dinner there is desert and every desert tastes great and everyone likes desert…. the moral to the story, there is always something better at the end.”
That story has stuck with me and I’ve passed it on, for years I held that plastic fork with me as a reminder that there is always something better in the end, and while the visits with Mony may only be temporary and we have to go back to being apart for a while, that time in between the visits is that potluck dinner and the visit is desert; and it doesn’t matter where in the world we’re going to meet, her house or mine, in a hotel or a cabin, on the street or a boat… I am always coming home.
Even when I leave to go back or she does, in the end we’re always coming home again.
Thanks for reading.
Please visit Mony’s new Blog: http://fourtyisntsobad.wordpress.com/ a perspective of life at and after forty