Over the last few weeks I’ve been spending a lot of time looking for a house or condo to purchase. It’s an emotionally draining process. Getting a mortgage and trying to find the home that not only fits my budget but is also in a convenient location.
I’m also trying to find something that “feels” like home. A place that I can see myself and all my belongings in. Can I picture myself curled up on the couch with my favorite book after a long day? Will I feel comfortable sleeping there at night? Can I picture my family photos lining the shelves? What will it be like to take the first sip of coffee in the morning as I gaze out the window and wonder what the coming day will bring?
I think about all these things and more.
It’s strange to think about having a new home. This is a topic that my sister brought up to me a few years ago. What we define as our home will change over the years. When we’re children and teenagers it’s usually the house we were born and raised in. When we go to college it’s our dorm room. Then it’s our first apartment. And perhaps eventually you get married and buy your first home together.
But there’s nothing like going back to the place you grew up in.
I live in the same home that I grew up in, although now I live in a small apartment downstairs. It’s very comfortable and familiar. I know it’s energy. When I come home from work after a stressful day, the life and love that this home as known emanates from it’s very walls and restores me.
My home has been my sanctuary and safe haven for many years now. It’s strange to think that some place new will be my sacred space. New memories will be made there. I’ll laugh there for the first time. Soon after I’ll have my first cry. My new home will see new friends. It will greet my family. The pitter patter of my four legged friend will echo down the halls.
And soon, very soon, life and love will emanate from its walls and it too will become my home.