2:12 p.m. - 2006-11-03
home is where the heart is, I hope
My dearest Lucian,
I often try to comfort myself with the knowledge that I don't remember much from my first year or so of life. I tell myself this when you and I move from one location to the next. Already in your life time we have lived in four different towns. I am so sorry that we have moved around so much. I am so sorry that I have not as of yet provided you with much stability. In May, I plan on moving us to an entirely different state. One in which it will be warm all the time, and I will be able to take you to the park after work, no matter how late it is, because it will not be too cold to climb on the playground. Of course your bedtime may be an issue on the park deal, but 6 pm will not be out of the question for taking a ride to the jungle gym.
So far I think I have done pretty well at keeping my intentions simple, and accomplishing my goals - at least where your rearing is concerned. So I have confidence that I will be able to provide you with a home that is permenant. I am confident that once we have made it to our southern state, that we will have all the amenities that will make your childhood safe, fun, and memorable. However, in these past few days I have been fearing the possible ramifications of not having a stable "home" for you to feel as though you are comfortable. For instance - when you were born, we lived in a two bedroom apartment. You never slept in your room because, quite frankly, I was selfish and wanted to cuddle with you all night. then, that place became unsafe for us to live in, and we moved into my father's house. Where we had a very cramped lifestyle due to my father not keeping up his end of the bargain, which was to come down every weekend to clean the place out. In order to give you a place to play where you could move beyong a 10' x 16' room, we visited Pete often. I wrecked my car after only a few weeks at my new job, and we moved in with Pete (and Uncle John) semi-permanently. Pete and I put up a pack-n-play in his room, so you could sleep in your own "bed" but still be near Mommy. This had been the temporary solution when we were simply visiting a lot. Once we moved in, there was no place to put you permanently, so it is still the set-up. After a while, I bought a new car, and your Uncle John started to want his home back. So you and I moved in with Pete's parents where you had spent most weekends since Pete and I got together anyway, because they can't stand to go more than a week without spending time with you. They also put a pack-n-play in my bedroom, and this is where you sleep.
In all of these places you have seemed carefree, and happy to play with the different set of toys in each place. And you always enjoy the company, no matter who is visiting. But I want for you to know that there is one place that you are officially home.
Yesterday I went to pick up your birth certificate for our flight next week (vacation). They asked me to provide a picture ID, and proof of current address. I broke down. I walked back to my car and cried. I, we, don't have a permanent address. I have failed at the most basic level to provide for you, and here was someone to whom I had to admit this. Someone who knew I was a mother, knew I had a small child at home, except that I had no home in which to keep him. I found a recent pay stub which had an address on it, and I walked back in the builiding and handed it to her wordlessly. She gave me your certificate without asking questions.
I am so sorry, baby. I'm sure this is not the last time I will have to say those words to you. I hope you can forgive me. I hope that this jumping around from place to placeis not going to scar you for life. I hope that when you grow up, you are either comfortable anywhere you are, or you have a strong sense of home. Or, I think this would be best of all, I hope you know that home is where the people who love you are.
And I will always love you.
Mommy
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