I type this, sitting on the floor, drinking wine from a beer mug. My lamps are gone, the couch cushions cleaned and leaning against the wall, and Pho delivery by my side.
Moving day is upon us!
I think I never really knew until now, how powerful the sense of home is. Perhaps this stems from having grown up in hotels for months at a time, or in 12 or more “homes”. Don’t get me wrong, nothing wrong with my multiple moves and I happen to love hotels. I just never really had that connection.
Until now.
A week of moving loads of stuff from the old to the new place, and it hits me. The sense of home is overwhelming. It is a sense of calm, of safety, of belonging.
This, compared to the insecure, hard to sleep, lack of compassion I have for my current apartment.
Even the dog can feel the difference. The door opens to the new place and in she bounds, prancing like the happy dog she is, exploring each room with her crooked smile. Even she has a new sense of calm compared to the old place.
To be true, the new place is not so new. It is the same unit I lived in three years ago. I feel I may have left my heart here, though I left for good reasons.
I now want to put my stamp on this place, from the floors to the furniture I’ve rescued from an unknown dumpster fate. Home is where the heart is, and I plan to reclaim home here.
Where is home to you?
