This is my new home.
I’ve been calling it my house. But living here for almost a week now, I’m starting to sleep better. I find myself staring at the front yard before I drive off to work; Looking at pride as I pull up when I’m coming home. We have wood floors and a place the for dogs to run around; A colorful lamp from Robby’s mom and even the wood cabinets are something I adore, no matter how Brady Bunch 80’s style they may seem to anyone else. The front porch is possibly my favorite, with green plants intertwining with the picket-fence look. It’s all kind of sinking in now. This is my home. I own it and I own it with my boy. It’s not perfect but still, I have trouble finding one single fault with it. I think it’s beautiful and warm and inviting. My little kid self dreamed of this, of owning her own house with a guy who loved her with all his heart. Dreamed of decorating and cooking concoctions and dancing around free to dance in whatever way she pleased, underwear or decked out in a fancy dress (or not wearing any clothes at all…) Dreamed of this big backyard with flowers filled with nectar; Dreamed of her little brother and husband out front working on brother’s car doing dude stuff as the sun sets. This, to me, is perfection. It’s cozy and warm and it has the prettiest fireplace I’ve ever seen.
But feeling at home isn’t limited to a place. It’s more of a feeling, isn’t it? A person, a moment, a touch, a smell, a certain food, a group of loved ones….All of these can be ‘Home’ in some sense. Home, to me, is something deep down that makes you feel comfortable and safe;Secure and proud; Loved and lucky. Home is a mixture of emotions that feel just right. So here ,my friends, are a few of the things that are home to me. And why.
Because there’s no one in the world I’m more comfortable around. Because he lets me shine bright camera flashes in his face and he doesn’t even ask why anymore. He knows me too damn well. Because we fight over his deodorant. Then he hides it. Then I find it and use it some more but I don’ tell him I know where it is this time. Because him and my brother are so close and that’s something I’ve always hoped for in my relationships. Just the other day my brother told me some man-talk that I didn’t know I shouldn’t repeat to the husband. When I did repeat it and found out that was a big no-no, the conversation went like this.
Brother: You better fix it. Now.
Me: What? I didn’t know…
Brother: No. Fix it. He’s not going to trust me anymore.
Me: It’s not like y’all are best friends.
Brother: …..We’re pretty close.
How cute is that?!
Because it’s pretty and peaceful. Because I have a lot of memories here and a lot more to come. Because when I see a couple practically doing it in the grass I don’t feel disgusted but rather reminisce and become even more thankful for where I am now. Because nothing says summer like the sun, floaties and friends. And because Emily and I are here at least once a week, it’s becoming quite familiar and home-like, in as much as pruney hands and not being able to touch the ground can feel like a home.
Sometimes I hate it, Sometimes I love it. & Somedays I want to strangle every single fellow employee and customer within 20 feet of me. But at the end of the day, it’s a job that I’m grateful for and happy to be at. Because I come in to work knowing every single day that I’m going to have lots of smiles and random conversation coming my way. Because I don’t agree with the way everything is done and I run my mouth a lot;But at the end of the day, I love those I work with and I know they love me too. Because we dance and sing and argue and gossip. Because we all have our own set of issues and sometimes we do bring that into work, and that’s okay. We have bad days and good ones too. Come to think of it, Starbucks (at Target, let’s not forget that. We are Target owned and no we can not take your tips or Starbucks Reward cards, because Target is ran by Hitler’s second cousins and stuff. ((not really, don’t quote me on that)) ) is a lot like my home life growing up. It’s a love-hate relationship, and it’s not all butterflies and hugs all of the time. Still, it is a family in all the ways that matter most. It’s us vs. the world. Or rather….Starbucks vs Hitler’s second cousin Target.
– Moments in between.
Because through this whole move process I’m surrounded by people who make me happy and warm and fuzzy and inside. I think you make your own home, no matter where it is or how you find it. Because no matter how bad you suck at bowling and whether one of your husband’s many exes is two lanes down or not, as long as you’re with people you love it ain’t so bad. Because a two hour Lowe’s trip is even kind of fun if you bring your brother along and turn it into a playground. (even if he sprays you with one of those compressed air things in the face and it hurts so bad you think your face is melting off….) Because home is not a house. Because it’s not something built or made for us; A home is something we create ourselves.