We've all heard the sayings that home is where your heart is, home is where you hang your hat, etc. but I'd never really thought about what home means to me. I always felt that home would always be the home of my parents... even after I married. I always felt that somehow, deep inside, I would never really feel at home in the place I'd created. Like it needed a mother. My mother. But after 2 years of marriage and the birth of my own baby girl, I felt this need to make my own home. I tried on the surface to bring warmth into every room, to make it have the life I felt my childhood home had. And then I saw it. Getting out of the shower after an exhausting day, my eyes fell to something so simple and seemingly insignificant. But I felt it. I was home...
I would always be home wherever my clothes were mixed in with my husband's. Wherever my sweet babies feet were pattering and getting into trouble. Life's storms can feel so serious and threatening. But if I can wake up and still have my sweet love holding me, enveloping me in comfort, I will forever be safe, in my own home.
