Home. Most people love the word. And what it means. And how it feels. It is where you should feel most comfortable. Most protected. Most loved. Most accepted. I can't even imagine what it would be like to not have a place to call Home. Homeless. Could there be anything worse?
I've lived in very small homes. Medium. Large. In the country. In the suburbs. I'm not sure it really matters much. What matters is who you are sharing it with. Whether there is peace and love within the walls and in the rooms. A house is just a shell. A home is entirely different. It is what you make it. It is what you give to make it full of life.
Let's face it. Life is often hard. But home is a place where we should strive to lighten the burdens of those we love. Never add to them. I've always loved the thought of home being a refuge. A place of shelter, protection and safety. A place of escape.
Home. My first home was on a dirt road in the country. On top of a hill. In the woods. Which is why I'll always have a feeling of nostalgia when walking through a wooded area. My heart is drawn to it. I'm a little girl again. Free. Without a worry in the world. With the knowledge that all will somehow be okay.
Yes, life is hard sometimes. It is unpredictable. Sometimes the rug gets pulled out from underneath us. Sometimes it's stormy outside. But I will strive to make "home" a word that will always bring comfort to myself and anyone who comes through my door.