When did that happen?

I went home last weekend for Thanksgiving and was really looking forward to it. When I'm here I miss my family and wish I was home, but when I'm home, I don't always feel like I belong there either.  When did that happen? I can't say its every time I'm there, but this last weekend for sure. I'm more a guest visiting what used to be the place I laid my head. A weird concept to comprehend, and something I'm not sure I like. While fighting the feeling this past weekend I did have some good moments, moments that seemed to stand still and just let me soak them up.
All of my nieces and nephews usually show some sign of excitement when they first see me after a month or two of absence. The first encounter with my nephew Gideon plastered a smile across my face for the next few hours. He can be really loud, and should possibly be wearing a helmet on a daily basis, but when he's happy to see you, you sure know it. Later that day I saw more of my kiddos and like always, hugs and kisses were exchanged. Ava, the 3-year-old, always seems to break my heart somehow. She has a way of holding on so tight, and for so long, that it just makes me want to burst into tears. She's also the one who generally asks why I have to go back to Iowa and tells me she'll come along.
Throughout the weekend I saw the kids play pirates, soldiers, and secret agents. I got to hear my 7 year old niece read a new book to me. I was able to win the love of the youngest little one of the family, and trust me, that's not an easy task. I think my long beaded necklace helped me out a little with that one. She was fascinated with it most of the day. All of these moments stuck with me. Moments that seem to happen few and far between.
While I'm there, it seems right. But only when everyone is around. The reality that we've all grown up is too much to bear once the chaos stops and the house gets quiet. Its funny because I'm used to being alone, now that I live alone. Before I was always so used to a noisy house. But somehow I can't get used to that house, the one I grew up in, being quiet. I don't like the silence there.
I'm sure my mother won't like me saying this, but I'm starting to feel like my house, this little apartment behind the laundromat, is becoming more and more my home. I'm developing a homebody attitude, I know the messes here are mine. I know the hair in the shower drain is mine, all mine. I've decorated it. I have made this what it is. I never thought living alone would be my cup of tea, and have said before that women are not meant to live alone, but I'm doing o.k. I'm even enjoying it a little.
So here I am. Back in the comfort of my own home. I put up my Christmas tree today, probably the earliest that's ever happened for me. I thought about being a scrooge this year, but the weather today, (currently 22 degrees and flurrying) made me remember how depressing winter can be. If I have to endure the cold, I at least need a sparkly tree waiting for me inside. I'll enjoy my time here, and in about a week or so, I will be wishing for my childhood home again.  Funny how things change, and on a weekly basis it seems.