“Home is the starting place of love, hope and dreams.”
It has been said, and I do believe, that is is not the size of a house that matters but rather the love that is contained withing the walls. Growing up there was always an abundance of love as we had a very close family. We all sat down to family dinners every night, we had family movie night and played games as well. There was never a lot of fighting, unless it was between my sister and I. The two of us fussing over who used the last towel or didn’t replace the toilet paper roll was pretty normal. And Mom and Dad made sure that we knew how much they loved us.
And everyone who set foot in our house felt it as well. We always had a houseful of guests, kids and foster children. Mom also knew how to decorate and design a room so that you felt warm and welcome when you walked in. It didn’t hurt that there was always a fresh pot of coffee and delicious home cooked food available at all times.
Indeed, I learned a lot about how to make friends feel welcome in a house. And I learned what made a house a home, a real home.
“Home is where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends.”
An interesting thing happened this week. I got an email that the house my ex bought was for sale. Apparently when you favorite a property it sends you a notice if it goes back on the market with in 12 months. This time last year, almost to the day, he was moving from the DC area to stay with me while we looked for a house in Houston. The house that was bought was wonderful, and huge. A 4,100 square feet monstrosity with 5 bedrooms, an an office, a game-room, a three car garage with a workshop and a fully landscaped yard. The house truly was magnificent.
I never moved in and had only been to the house a few times before we broke up. Of course curiosity got the better of me and I clicked the link in the email. It was strange clicking through the pictures and remembering all the plans for decorating the kids rooms and such. But mostly it was sad.
Here was this amazing and beautiful house…that was never a home. It was just a place he slept. And got drunk. And yelled at his kids when they would stay. He never unpacked, as there were still boxes exactly where I remembered. I even saw glasses where I had placed them, and my shampoo still in the shower. Nine months he had been in that house.
And I was immediately thankful for my Home. It is not near as grand or fancy, but it is full of love and laughter and great memories and fully unpacked. I have been in my place six months, and it feels more like home than any place I have been in a long time. I would rather be here, in my little sanctuary from the harsh world, than anywhere else.
“There is nothing more important than a good, safe, secure home.”
I have had friends here and they all talk about how warm my house feels, and how they know they are welcome. Indeed, nothing and no one has ever harmed or hurt me here. Only those that I love and care for have entered. And outside of needing more drawers in the bathroom, I wouldn’t change anything about it. It is perfect, my house that is so full of love that it could burst.
From my wonderful neighbors to friends that have stayed, to loved ones who have my heart, this house is my home. It is where I hang my hat and lay my head and pray with all of my heart. It is where I have made my new beginning and my heart happy. And the next house I buy will be just the same, except more love.
Life is short. Know the difference between a house and a home. Because even the biggest mansion can be nothing more than a fancy prison if it contains no love inside.