the meaning of home

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Home is warmth.

Home is love.

Home is comfort, and all of those other vague, cozy-fuzzy ideas.

Home is also the whoosh and gurgle of a running dishwasher late at night in a darkened kitchen. Home is soaking coats dripping themselves dry in a laundry room after a day in the snow. Home is worn, hardwood floors. Home is dents and scratches on corners leftover from plastic trucks and cars that have long since been given away. Home is toast and hot cocoa on Sunday evenings. Home is bookshelves full of loved Dickens and Shakespeare. Home is wooden kitchen chairs that creak and wobble, but somehow stay in one piece. Home is Christmas trees, and candles, and flowers on the table. Home is freshly baked French bread, sliced with butter melting slowly into it. Home is those simple, mundane sounds and smells that are forever connected to happy memories.

The house that I grew up in will always have a special place in my heart – it’ll always represent a special, idyllic version of “home,” no matter how many other places I grow to call home throughout my life.

What does “home” mean to you?

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cheers to saturdays

so, today has been quite lovely. lazy and quiet and full of all the comfy things a november saturday should have. today was one of those days where i woke up and wanted to bake something delicious and fill my kitchen and my entire house with swirling cinnamon scents. i didn’t end up baking anything, i really wish i had. but here’s cheers to saturdays of comfort and blankets and sleep and crisp air and warm endings. 

here’s to beginning the day late with a refreshing run down a quiet park path.

here’s to long showers, where you have all the time in the world, where you can soak up every last bit of relaxation and not worry about having to be somewhere.

here’s to spending the day watching netflix documentaries, because intelligence is attractive and enticing, and because steinway & sons pianos are absolutely beautiful.

here’s to afternoons and evenings and nights spent in a comfy sweatshirt, reading blogs full of pretty, soothing words, inspiring me to be more and write more and run away to new york city and never come back.

here’s to considering possibilities of the future and life adventures yet to be had.

here’s to ending the day with hot chocolate and bread with camembert cheese, pretending to be somewhat fancy, and deciding that when i go off and live in a big city, i’m going to buy myself baguettes and camembert on a regular basis and indulge my french sensibilities.

here’s to electric blankets. enough said.

here’s to saturdays, and here’s to the pretty-much-winter weather, and here’s to the future.

rain

fall rain. as i sit cross-legged here on my bed, the window next to me cracked slightly open, the rain sings a soothing, calming melody. summer rain cleanses and clears and cools the hot, muggy, stuffy air. fall rain is different. fall rain is like a mother comforting her child – it relaxes and sets you at ease. the world is already cool and a chill has already seeped into the days, so that’s not the purpose of this rain. it’s a song for the tired and worried of heart.

rain is part of the music of nature, along with bird chatterings and tree rustlings and wind whisperings. what’s it trying to say to you?

the next time it rains, slide open your window just a bit and listen. listen to the rhythm and cadence and tone of it. listen for the words of the rain speaking peace to your soul. can you catch it? let the sound rush over you and envelop you. cling to that sound, to that reality, and remember that there are only a few bits in this life that matter most. let the rain help you find your way back to those bits. let its song carry you back, washing away the stress and worries of your life. then just breathe. let the rain help you breathe.