Home

Home

It means different things to different people.

I have had a home in California, Key West and am on my 3rd home on Georgia.

But my home is in California.

My parents bought this house when I was 2 years old and still live there. The back bedroom, where they keep their computer now, is my room.

When I get the chance to go home, which is not very often, I walk in and slip right into comfort.

Home

The sound the Furnas makes when the pilot lights and you know in a few seconds the heater is going to come on.

Home

How when water is run in my parents bathroom, you can hear the pipes “pop” in the living room.

Home

How when you are sleeping you are still aware that my dad is up because of the sound of the newspaper pages being turned because he reads the paper every single day first thing. You can count on that just like you can count on the sun coming up every day.

Home

How if you need change for something, look in my dad’s shoe that is on the hearth. I used to wonder when I was little if he ever accidentally left a coin in his shoe and then walked around on it all day.

Home

Where Christmas Eve’s were spent with family after the church service and then on Christmas morning presents were opened and we all went to my aunt’s house for brunch.

Last night we were having very bad winds and I was awakened early. As I lay in bed, I heard my own familiar things…

The clunk of the ice maker.

The wind chime on the front porch.

The stomp of my daughter’s feet upstairs as she gets up to get ready for school.

The patter of dog paws coming down the stairs as Oliver goes from Court’s bed to ours once she gets up.

And I realized, just this morning, that I have my own home, with my own sounds and memories.

And I know that it sounds stupid, but I laid there this morning and smiled to myself in the dark listening to the wind and my husband snore and was just happy to be home!