When I was a little girl, I would dream of the day I would have my own home. I would picture it in my mind - a gorgeous 2 or 3 story home, complete with balcony, fireplace, spiral staircase, a horse barn and pasture, and acres of gardens off a bumpy dirt road, secluded in the forest. I thought I'd grow up, get married, move into a house, and start a family - very 1950s style. It would be an organic move from one home to the next. But what no one ever tells you is that when you move out you have to make a home. Home doesn't just happen.
I've been struggling for nearly four years to feel at home in various apartments in various cities. I'm embarrassed that it has taken me this long to accept that yes, I live in an apartment. This is our home. While it never automatically felt like home, I doubt that any place, even my dream house, would automatically feel like home.
Home is something you create through decor and tradition. Home is something you live through your actions and values. Home is love because of what you bring to it. Home is cozy because it's safe. Home is where you keep everything that is valuable to you - people, pets, things, thoughts, dreams... Home is just as much inside of you as it is a physical place, and whose to say you can't have more than one?
I'm not giving up on my dream house by any means, but I'm working towards creating a home to bring with me when I get there.
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