In my Facebook group, this past week, I asked how many homes my 2k members (women in midlife and beyond) had lived in so far and the answers ranged from 2 (she now lives in her childhood home!) to 40+ (she stopped counting!). The average is supposedly 11.
In thinking about the 21 homes I’ve lived in so far, I have many warm feelings. When I was younger, it was more about the sanctuary of my bedroom (once I got one of my own—did I mention that when we lived in Paris as children I made a bedroom out of my parents’ dressing room and my sister Kat made her bedroom out of the walk-in linen closet?). Nowadays, I get joy out of all the rooms in my house.
So yes, I admit it. I’m a homebody. Home means love and safety and peace to me. It’s my happy place. While yes, home is my family, for me there’s an extra special element to home that’s about the physical space too.
Now that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy going out to visit with friends or to participate in fun and interesting activities. My husband and I are also big travelers and look forward to setting off on new adventures as the world reopens. But oh how sweet it is, after hours or days or weeks away, to come home. My bed, my stuff, my garden, my dog, my routine. Ahhhh…
YOUR TURN: What does home mean to YOU?