Home Sweet Harrogate

So this weekend is DBs weekend with his daughter. I am getting use to him being away for 5 days in a row every two weeks and then coming”home” to me. Him being away has its advantages, I can get more work done, I can focus on the kids, and I can even write this blog.

In an effort to stay in touch, he sent me an innocent little note, “What’s going on @Harrogate?” Harrogate is the street we live on. These 5 words, “What’s going on @Harrogate?, sent me into a tizzy of a sleepless night. Why didn’t he say, “What’s going on @home?” One word and I didn’t sleep till 2:00 am.

Maybe it isn’t home to him. Maybe he just didn’t think. Maybe it was a Freudian slip, maybe it wasn’t. I mean what the heck is home to him at this point? He has the good fortune or bad fortune to have three places with his name listed as owner/lessee at this point. When can too many homes be a curse. In my opinion, now. He has his house with his hopefully soon ex-wife. Fortunately, to the best of my knowledge, he does not spend any time there. He has his apartment with his daughter. This is the place I resent, but I try to be resentful in silence. Getting the apartment was the idea of DB’s counselor. The person he sees to help him go through the emotions of the divorce and the changes associated with it. Due to the recency of DB leaving his wife he thought it would be inappropriate for his daughter to be introduced to me and my three children immediately. So the apartment was intended to give Bitty (his daughter) a place to acclimate on her way to a new blended family, and our home. Never mind, my kids were forced to acclimate to DB when he showed up at my door asking to come back, but that is another story.

Notice to me all the other locations are apartments and houses, but Harrogate is home. It is the place I sleep every night. It is the place my children sleep when they are with me and not with their dad. It is the place I decorate with corn stalks, gourds, and ghosts for Halloween and where my kids invite their friends to “hang out.” It is where I am when I greet DB at the door with a kiss, a drink, and a hug that tells him I never want to let go. It is our home. At least for me it is. I hope he feels the same way too.

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