I love being home. My home is warm (even when cold air is seeping through old windows), home feels safe, in my home is my uber comfortable bed, and there are constant reminders that this house is well-lived in (e.g. shoes in the hall, toy cars littering the floor, mail on the counter, etc.) The best part about my home is the people I share it with.
But that’s ok because the home part is what is really important. In my home there is a mix of tuna casserole and chocolate chip cookies in the air (yeah, I didn’t plan that cooking too well), there are remnants of the Apples to Apples game that we played tonight that didn’t get put away, I have an assortment of craft supplies piled up in the dining room, and you can tell it’s sports season because the glove, the shin guards, and the soccer balls are everywhere except in their proper bags. Believe it or not, this makes my heart happy.
Among the mess and chores that will always be there, I am reminded that I am so blessed. The crazy mix of aromas means my family ate well tonight, the game means that I got quality time with my family, the craft supplies mean that there might be some day in the near future I make time for myself, and the sports equipment means that I have kids healthy enough to run and play.
It doesn’t matter if it is this house, or a house across town, or a house in another state. What we fill it with, the love, the quality time, the fun; that is what makes me love my home. I’ll learn to embrace the dust bunnies because I think they are here to stay.