Home is Where Your Heart is
Been thinking about this a lot for the past year, quite literally.
A roof over the head is a house, not home. It can be a giant mansion, with 50 rooms and 40 bathrooms (not that I have one), it can feel like an empty box that drains every last bit of breath out of you.
A home is a shelter, a harbor, where your heart belongs, where your mind and soul can be at ease without agitation, relax without stress, trust without doubt, can heal without fear. A home is where you can be yourself without being judged, cheated, criticized. A home is where your heart longs to go.
To many, I am in a very bad place in my life, rock bottom perhaps. To me, I am in a much better place than past few years. I am so much happier, learning to trust, learning to give my all again, learning to let go, even though I have to peel the scars to remember the wound more frequently than I’d like to. But I laugh from my heart now, mostly cry happy tears, I feel much stronger, much safer. I mean, seriously, I got a metal plate and 8 screws in my wrist to reinforce it now!
Sure, the definition of a home is different from a man and a woman. Don’t judge me for not having an ambitious dream, I am an independent woman, but a home for me is where I can feel safe, feel happy, I have strong shoulders to lean on when I feel weak, I have a light house in the storm without having a trace of doubt in my mind.
I can’t wait to have kids, strong shoulders and all the 4-legged goofballs all together and finally have my forever home.
