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Thursday, September 3, 2009

It's not a house it's a home.

(a freshly painted roof,last summers project)

My house is a home.My house used to be just a house.I got up,went to work came home,went to sleep,got up went to work again.It was a place for shelter a place to eat that's it.Sure we were happy to have a house and everything was fine...I thought.Now I see it's a home.I feel it's warmth long before I reach it's driveway.As I round the bend on top of the ridge past the old church,it starts to feel like home.Not that minute before the church,but just as I pass the turn I get a sense of calmness..I'm almost home.This is where I make breakfast,lunch, and dinner.Where I have made sure it's always tidy and picked up.Where I watch my son play and explore and giggle in the grass.I bath him,cuddle him and here on the couch is where I nursed him.The floor in the living room is where I finally broke down and cried days after trying to be strong after my miscarriage.
It's not the grandest by any means..we do need to add on but it's fine for now.I don't care if the decor is a mismush of collected things that really don't match.There is love, laughter, and sadness.Silliness,seriousness,and thoughtfulness.The smell of baby powder,laundry soap,and dogs.Chicken roasting in the oven,apple pie,fresh bread, cream and vanilla simmering away in a pot to become ice cream soon.The smell of fresh cut grass,dirty fingernails from pulling weeds and working in the garden.Muddy dog prints across the ivory carpet and smelly diapers in the trash.A broken cabinet door barely hanging on by the top hinge..be careful not to bump it or it will fall.Tupperware falling on you head and a can of beans falling on you toe.Cleaning up garbage off the deck every morning for a week straight because a raccoon got into it that night before.Beers on the deck and a nice fire,ducks quacking as they waddle by,and naked babies wearing spider man sunglasses.This is my house...this is my home.

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