Throughout the '80s we were reminded weekly that, "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name," and that may be true. But even more so, sometimes you want to go to a place where someone knows you. Not just your name. Not who they've decided that you are. You.
My mama knows me.
There is a peace and relaxation in being with someone who knows you. A feeling of home. (This is why a visit to my daughter in New Hampshire--where I had never been before--felt like a sort of homecoming.) I spend a lot of time with people who think they know me, but who I suspect completely misunderstand me at a fundamental level. It's stressful in a way that is hard for me to describe.
When I pull up outside my mom's condo I feel the same way I do when I pull up in the driveway of my crazy house and am greeted by my sons. I feel the way I do when my husband's car pulls into the driveway on Friday night. I feel like I do when my daughter greets me wherever she is living now.
I feel like I'm home.