I have been thinking about being settled lately.
I moved houses a good few times as a child. I didn't mind though. Each brought a new adventure and new friends. I have a fond spot for each home in my mind. And that's just what they were, home. My mom was a master of making a place home. I never really thought about that before. She was so gifted in bringing our family's aura/essence into our new quarters. I never felt not at home. Never.
That is a gift I'm working on... can you work on a gift? I suppose you can. I'm working on what makes home and what makes us. By working, I don't just mean hanging up pictures (this is the first house I've done that in.) I mean I've been mulling it over in my mind.
Somewhere and I have moved a grand total of four times in our four years of marriage. Each house felt more like home than the last. That said, I haven't learned how to pack up, and then unpack, "home." That thing that makes it where no longer how long you live there or what the dwelling looks like, it is home. My heart has been seeking home. It wants to sink into it like a warm down comforter, like the perfect garden hide away, the tinkle of wind chimes. It wants to settle in. I want to settle in.
End of part one of the My Hearts Series.
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