Thursday, February 14, 2008

• Home is where the heart is- inside of me

  For the Internet Island blogring:

  32.1: Define "Home": What do you think of when you hear the word "home"?

  It's another wintery, snowy day outside. We walk in through the back door, tapping our shoes on the patio. We throw our coats over the bookshelf and walk in. Him to his computer, me to my couch.

  We banted back and forth a bit about dinner. Finally, we decide on chicken fried chicken and mashed potatos. He cooks the mashed potatos- he always gets the texture just right. I coat the chicken and throw it in the oven. Easier to bake than fry.

  We eat, and compliment each other on the meal. I get to watch my shows for the night- we both agreed that I get control of the tv at night since he only goes to school two days a week, and I work all day. He has plenty of time to watch tv if he wants.

  I thank him again for doing the laundry or dishes or whatever little chore he's done that day. Or ask him to do it tomorrow, if he hasn't. He does a lot of chores since he doesn't work, and without complaining. So I try not to get too upset when he doesn't.

  Despite himself, he watches the shows with me and makes comments. Sometimes he'll cuddle on the couch with me if I'm not too busy.

  Some nights Loni comes over. We go thrift store shopping or to the dollar store. Sometimes we sew together, she taught me how. We watch movies and talk about everything and anything.

  Ian and I talk as we fall asleep. About money, and plans we have for the next day... or week... or year. Or aobut how our day went, or whatever cute thing the kitten did that day. Sometimes he lets me cuddle him til I'm almost asleep.

  And then I wake up and go off to work the next day. I get to work with an awesome bunch of ladies, and I truly adore my job. I'm good at it, and feel good doing it. My boss is awesome, he'll let us talk and have a good time... as long as we're getting the work done. It's almost as if I'm my own boss most of the time.

  To me, this is home. Home isn't a place, or a person, it's the life I've created for myself. All the little joys and blessings, the hard times and bad times.

  Home is that warm feeling of being comfortable in my own skin. Of knowing who I am and what I'm doing. Home is wherever I'm at- because I can make it comfortable.

  All the people I care about and love are home. Because they all carry around a little piece of me that I gave to them. So when I'm with them- I get to see that piece of me again.

  Home is in my heart inside of me. And I carry it with me everywhere I go

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