Hi friends~ I hope you’re all well, this is the first moment I’ve had to myself in a week now, and it feels so lovely.
I’ve spent today in a whirlwind sort of thinking about how it feels to be “home,” and how, even though its only been three weeks since leaving my parents’ house, how that space doesn’t feel like a home to me anymore.
I write about this question a lot, but, what consititutes as a home for me?
I am not sure what constitutes as home for me anymore other than…where I am. Where I rest and unwind in a permanent-manner. I am tired of spreading my years with many places to call home, and I am ready to settle in one spot for a year or two. One spot on my own, without family, to just unpack my ho things and stay.
So right now, it doesn’t feel like I’m displaced…but it feels like…I feel like a nomad, a vegavond, like I keep a hair brush at every possible place of slumber now.
And that’s a bit strange.
But the coolest thing on the horizon right now is that my dream of having a home of my own, a place to stay, is actually…realistically coming before me. Its appearing, its right there, arms reach, and it’ll take work and some time and a lot of stress and money but its there, I’m running up to it, catching up to my future.
But my home seems to come with me. I can unpack it, but it seems that a home is a feeling, it isn’t a place anymore, and it probably won’t be again until I get that feeling again. This all sounds a bit…strange, but its true to me. A home is where the heart is, and the heart meaning the passion, comfort and joy.
The heart is coming soon for me, I can feel it.