We don’t live there yet, but the new house is slowly beginning to feel like home to us. Ian and Graeme have finished the living room built-ins and are working on some electrical stuff for our TV. In a few short weeks, we’ll be working on the kitchen and then it will be time to pack our bags. It’s been hard for me to think of it as anything but sweet Mrs. Mary Lynn’s house—that’s the only way I’ve ever seen it. Especially since we don’t live there, our things aren’t there, it’s been hard for me to see it as our soon-to-be home.
Home is a really important thing for me. It’s where I spend all my days now, and it’s the place I long for when I’m away, it’s my mama’s house and it’s this loft. It’s where Ben and my pajamas and books and photos are.
Tonight we headed over to the house to see Chevy and it was pouring down rain. We turned onto our street and I could see the inviting glow of our yellow cottage and the lights in the flowerbeds. Our American flag was there, shining in the lights. A wreath hangs on the door. We pulled into the carport and had the great pleasure of stepping out of the car without getting wet. Isn’t that the best greeting a house can give you in a storm? We headed through our dry, quiet, empty house to the backdoor and saw that pup was nestled in his dog house, safe and sound. He was home.
And now I can feel it. We’ll be right at home there, and we’ll still be at home here in this loft when we’re working, and my mama’s house will always be my forever home. I think you can have as many homes as you want as long as love is there.