Dear Universe: Home Edition

Backyard (1994-ish)

I just got off the phone with my mom. The event first discussed over a year ago has finally come to pass. The house I grew up in outside of Memphis has sold. 21 years of thinking of it as home and there will not be a Langsen living there anymore. Instead a young Canadian doctor from St Jude and his wife. I feel good about that. I like Canadians.

And it will still be home in a lot of ways because our family is there. Not blood relations, per se, but koumbara. That would be the Greek word for the family you're not related to, the ones you choose. Six degrees stronger than "community" implies, equally crazy and loved unconditionally. It was a great place to grow up. I'm surprised that I'm still surprised, even with plenty of time to get my head around it, if not every tendril. My parents have already divided themselves between Florida and the Cape, Dad officially retires in January. Times they are a-changing, etc.

Funny that today would be the day. Dear Universe, you may not be subtle but I kinda like it that way. Jaimeson is getting on a plane at LAX in an hour, bound for Chicago. With several boxes and suitcases because.....

Jaimeson is moving into Wicked Park with me (and HC, of course).

To the degree that he lives anywhere, this will be home for both of us now. We had a massive Craigslist/Garage Sale "happening" in LA last weekend and he has been going nonstop ever since to get here by Christmas. Like he hasn't had a big enough holiday season already (you can find his record HERE). We've talked about it loosely and gently for awhile and now it is happening. We've come a long way, most of it documented here.

I don't know how much will change because he'll still be on the road a lot and back to LA as much as he needs to be but it still feels like something. Something very good that smells like roast chicken and fresh lemons and some combination of lavender, rosemary and sandalwood.

Home is where the heart is, n'est ce pas?

In lieu of Jaimeson's traditional welcome back pie, I went a little over the top with Dorie Greenspan's Rosy Poached Pear and Pistachio Tart. Special, seasonal and involving pistachio pastry cream with a honey wine syrup. Welcome home, my dear.

*Note: Now that I live with a Greek, I will drop Greek words into posts at will. In tandem with the odd French words and phrases that help me up the "intellect" quotient of my writing about frosting, feline love triangles and being hungry. I could feel embarrassed for myself but I don't. I live with one. I am LEGIT.

**Note: Also, you're welcome for photographic evidence of why I have not capitalized on the "bangs" trend.