The first movie I ever saw in the theater was Oliver, the 1968 musical version of Dickens' Oliver Twist. I've had a song from that film running through my head for the two weeks since I moved into the townhouse I'm renting: Consider Yourself at Home.
That's what I'm trying to do--somehow find a way to think of this strange new space as my home. It hasn't been easy so far. It's finally starting to feel familar, but there's a long ways to go before it will feel homey. (Hudson has his own misgivings, but he's starting to settling in.) To be honest, I still feel depressed and lonely each time I drive up to the house, but I think that's fading a bit.
For the first few days I kind of hated it here. But now that I've got my snazzy new home theater set up and some pictures on the walls, it's pleasant enough. Tonight I ordered an electic fireplace to add a bit of cheer and heat. I'm seriously lacking in windows, and the ones I have are drafty. Hudson will be happy to have a warm place to nap again, too.
As much as I don't feel at home here, the old house no longer feels "right" to me either. In the two weeks since Darren moved back in, I've been over there a couple times to pick up stuff. (I only go over when he's at work.) He's bought new furniture, changed the pictures on the walls. It feels and (even smells) like a stranger's home. And I suppose it is.
So if my old home is lost to me, the only option is to make this place my home.
I realized that one of my problems is that I have no happy memories in this new house yet. I need to work on changing that.
For now, Hudson and I will just snuggle on the couch, and try to consider ourselves at home.