I've been homesick on and off since we moved....for the people we left behind; for our house, which I loved; and for the feelings of control and comfort that come from established routines and familiar places.
So I was upset the other night, after a long day, and told Jon I was homesick. And that, surely, he must miss home, too. Do you know what he said? That he was not homesick because he had me here with him.
At the time, I thought he was being very sweet, but that it was annoying that he seemed to have nary a twinge of homesickness.
But now, I'm thinking about the notion that I represent home to him (and to Katrina, too). I've heard the idea that the wife/mom is the heart of the home (or, in a more humorous way, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!"). As we start to make a home and build a life in a new place, I'm seeing how true that can be. When I am short-tempered, impatient, or sad, I sometimes see a mirroring-type reaction from Katrina. It is frightening, sometimes, just how much influence a parent is in a small child's life.
And when Jon makes a comment like that, I realize that I underestimate my influence in his life. If I am home to him, what kind of home am I making? If I set the tone and rhythm in our home, what can I do to make our life as a family peaceful, loving, a haven for both my husband and daughter?