I was in bed with Amanda that first night upon my return, and I whispered to her, after a time of suckling, that it was “good to be home.”
I realized as I spoke those words that “home” means many different things.
It refers to my childhood home as well as my adult home. This is about physical houses — my Pennsylvania house when I was a girl and this Denver house now. Physical houses carry memories of who you were at a time, and when, and now. And they have their character — my Pennsylvania house was an old split-level, hidden and private, with small rooms on different levels, and (notably) lots of closets. This Denver house is a rancher, fully open and spread (as Amanda often makes me when she plays with me).
“Home” for me it is also a designation of “place” in a broader sense — that there was a place (Pennsylvania) for my growing up and this (Colorado) is now a place/environment for my being an adult. These are also two very different ways of thinking and believing — my religious narrowness growing up and my more open acceptance of people and ideas now. In my former home, relationships were categorized and boxed. Here and now they are open and free and poly.
“Home” now is very much for me a matter of my life and how I live it. Pennsylvania represents my vanilla life as a young woman searching, while Colorado represents my submissive life as an adult woman, having found what she is. “Coming home” to this place is about my coming of age, my coming into my slavery, and Lord knows, my coming, period.
And finally, “home” also refers to people. When I told Amanda, it was “good to be home,” my face was nestled between her ample breasts. She may have fallen asleep to the rhythm of my lips and touches, the slow fondling of my attentions, and may not have heard me. Yet I’m sure she would agree that one’s best home is where you are understood and accepted and made more fully into what you are.
While the one-time meanings of my childhood home have been left behind, that place still holds me in one respect — my mother, who has amazingly accepted me in this bi and sub life of mine and opened her mind and heart to what was unthinkable in the old homestead.
Indeed, it comes full circle: she is the one who once nursed me at her breast.