Last night at Harvard House felt so typically post-grad.
Lindsay, Haley, and I forewent our wine bar plans in favor of renting Sweet Home Alabama on demand. After a rain-chilled day, a restful night was just what we needed.
Lindsay came over early to catch Beth before she went out for the evening. Beth perched herself on our kitchen countertop, and Lindsay and I sat on the barstools, while Beth filled us on in on her hiking date earlier that day. We jumped off our stools and danced around when she said it went great, the first great date in this city in awhile. While we chatted and laughed and pressed for details, I melted better and stirred in sugar to make cookie dough dip to eat with the movie. Using the stovetop always makes our kitchen warmer.
Katelyn and Rachel came through the back door, hauling basketball-player-sized cardboard boxes from Ikea inside, leaving their car with its blinking emergency lights blocking the alleyway behind the house. I slipped on my Birkenstocks and helped carry one up the slippery deck steps, through the door, and into the dining room. We saved the stairs for another, less lazy day.
Beth left, Haley arrived in her Uber, and we settled around the kitchen island, spreading pepperjack cheese on Trader Joe’s crackers and dipping pretzels into the cookie dough dip. We talked about crying after work and nit-picky supervisors and the strange way that perceptions become reality. Sam came down for a minute to pour a glass of rice wine and went back upstairs to continue making her school lesson plans.
Before Katelyn left to go have dinner homemade by some Italian friends, she showed me how to rent movies on the tv. Haley and Lindsay and I carried our red wine glasses into the den and settled on the couches and into our movie, the story of a small-town girl who moves to a big city but finds her heart still tied to home.
I think every one of these women – Haley, Lindsay, Beth, Katelyn, Rachel, Sam, me – feels this, too. That tiny little tug in the gut and the heart. This homeward longing.
As a dear friend reminded me yesterday, we are meant to long for home. By design, we will never be fully satisfied or content on this earth, because this earth is not our true home.
But I am so comforted and grateful for this temporary home on Harvard Street, this safe place to land as we whirl around making our lives in a big city, holding onto each other even as we never let our feet fully rest on this earthly yet hallowed ground.
But in the meantime, we’re making a temporary home down here on Harvard Street, a safe place to land as we whirl around a big city, holding onto each other even as we never let our feet fully rest on this earthly ground.