A House, A Home

One thing I will never forget is the last day I was there. Everything was gone...packed up and on its way to Oregon (courtesy of Dave). I had come back to do some touch up cleaning...and sort of...just hang out...one last time. I sat there and stared at all the things that were SO familiar to me. Paint colors, lighting fixtures, doorknobs, wood finishes...all "my touch"...and I was proud. But the emptiness reminded me of something else, what I was really sad to leave, afraid to loose, were the memories made in our home. It's kind of like the walls served as a trigger to remember...and if I wasn't there...would I forget?


I scribbled like mad into a notebook, all the beautiful things I could remember. Like how we brought Zach home from the hospital all bundled up in his car seat. We set him on the couch and sat across from him and just stared. The memory is SO vivid...we were parents! I wrote and wrote, and while I recorded, do you know where my kids were!? Each was lying on the floor of their room with a blankie and nothing else. Their rooms were barren like the rest of the house, and I laid them down not believing they would actually fall asleep....on the floor! But I guess they were comforted by the recognition of their 4 little walls. Their domain, their spot in the world, and it was cozy and safe. They didn't need beds or pictures on the wall. This shelter - our home - was enough.



Oh, I am a dweeb, I know. Its just that getting ready to move again...has got me thinking, reminiscing about it all. Dave got back from Houston today with lots of pictures and details...and I am excited to start the process. I just hope that I will feel the same way about another home!