A place called home.
There is a wonderful place where the wind rustles in the trees, where the train whistles can be heard echoing from the distance, and where the candles flicker in the windows. A place that is always warm and smells of apples, hazelnuts, or freshly baked cookies. A place so beautiful and comforting, it could only be called home.
The more I travel and perhaps the older I get, the more keenly aware I am of my desire to have a home. Home is more than a place, but it is a feeling of safety and security. A place where you can let your guard down and relax, a place to call your own. A place where the chaos of the outside world is quieted. A place for peace and rest.
We have been on the move for several months now, and though it has been wonderful exhilarating and adventurous, it can also become draining. I miss that feeling of familiarity. That feeling of a place called home. It’s the feeling that you are surrounded by love, and life, and memories. Childhood photographs adorn the walls, the rocking chair that Grandpa built in the corner, and the beautiful dishes that were given to you as a wedding present on the shelves. At home each thing is a representation of your life and the lives of those that you love.
Home is a part of you. More than all of those things, though, home is a place where those you love are gathered. Sipping coffee with Dad in the early morning when we are the only ones awake, playing with my nieces and nephews in the backyard in the warm summer sun, roasting marshmallows with the whole family on cool falls nights, and chatting with my mom and sisters around the fire on a Sunday afternoon. I miss those things so much.
Home is a funny thing. You don’t know exactly how much it means until it is so many miles behind. I have traveled those many miles and have fallen in love with many places, but yet my heart always longs for home. So today as I sit here reflecting on the place I love so much, I am thankful that such a place exists for me. Thankful there is always a place for me to return to with welcoming arms. I am thankful that for me home is a place of peace and refuge and thankful that it will be there when I return. And return to it I will.
There is a wonderful place where the wind rustles through the leaves, where the doves sing their early morning song, and I place that always welcomes me with open arms. There is a place I love called home.