A virtual friend asked me to describe what home means to me. I quickly rattled off a generic, yet truthful answer. As I’ve had more time to ponder the idea, I worry my response was only covering the surface. I believe it rounded out an idea of comfort, laughter, family and friends – all honest ideals and things for which we strive. However, what gets lost is why those things matter; the reasons and richness of their existence…and our need for it. Our constant and indefinite state of healing not only thrives on comfort, laughter, family and friends – it requires it. Our home has been a safe haven and at times a retreat from overwhelming situations/feelings/memories. We at times make a conscious choice to shut out the world, its inhabitants, its pain and our weakness to function within it, but we also welcome joy inside its walls. We crave gut busting laughter, interpretive dance parties, gin tastings, dinners where it doesn’t matter if the table is set and comfy pants are the required attire – these are the things that make a house a home. Yes, I want it to be lovely and cozy, a cohesive unique design, walls littered with photographs and art, a working kitchen, enough storage space…but honestly, I just want to hear laughter echoing against the walls, warm bodies occupying the space, no matter how imperfect it may be.
** you should check out said virtual friend if you love home design, DIY, puppy dawgs, and an overdose of adorable.