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Current mood: pure

Poochi-wi, poochi-wiiiii, POOCHI-WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!

No, you have no idea what that means unless you are Tiana or one of her friends. Poochi-wi is a good old fashioned feelin' sorry for myself blah feeling we all get from time to time. I am poochi-wi today.

Actually, I've been poochi-wi for a while.

I am sick of my house. I am sick of being in Texas. I am very poochi-wi.
I don't care about this house any more. I don't want to clean it. I don't want to sleep here. I don't want to cook here. I don't want to be here. I do want to move out of it and head east and do it mighty quick. But I won't. I am going to stay. I am going to stick with the plan because ultimately, I truly believe that is what is best in the long run, not just for me- for all of us.

I figured out today why I don't care about cleaning it any more or anything else. This isn't my home any more. I know, I said that a few weeks ago, but it really hit home (not this one, obviously) for me today. So, does that render me homeless?

Nope, but I do have that feeling about myself.

We all miss the people we love when we can't be near them and Travis' absence is no different, although there are obvious differences with this separation in comparison to the others. As I said before in another blog, I do really well when he deploys or is away at schools and the like. That is a temporary (even when it feels like forever) situation and I know he'll be coming home to me. This time he won't, at least not to stay.

Therein lays the problem. Home for me is where Travis is. It really is that simple and that is the source of today's poochi-wi. I want to be home. I want to go home and no matter how many times I unlock the front door and walk through it in this house, this wont ever be home again. I never thought detaching myself from this house would be so sudden for me until I realized home is not a place. Whatever online dictionary I used to define home says that home is: a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household. They are either lying or are ill-informed.

South Carolina is now my home.

Home is my heart.