It's been a little while since I last blogged, for various reasons, namely poorly children and an incredibly hectic schedule, I am now immeasurably looking forward to the next 30 minutes where I can order my thoughts, splurge my feelings and generally take stock!
In addition to the poorly Numbers 1, 2 and 3, last week was full-on in a way that I am not sure I can sustain at pushing 40!!!! In fact, it was so full-on that from Monday to Saturday I did not spend one evening at home. It was not until I hit 7pm on Sunday evening that the sofa and I were reunited once more. I can't begin to tell you how good that felt! My sofa is big, squishy and REALLY comfy and so that night I gave it my full-on attention - I didn't move for hours...heaven!
It was a full-on week, but it was full of pretty good stuff like running my local cinema showing of "Woman in Gold" (a surprisingly good film), a night out chatting with a very dear friend, a book group meeting discussing our latest read (and of course gossiping about lots of other things) and an excellent night at the theatre with two of my most favourite people in the world.
Really, I can't believe that I could possibly complain about any of that...BUT as lovely as all of those evenings were, and as much as I enjoyed them, I felt so happy to be home on Sunday night, sitting with The Big Guy, enjoying a glass of wine and picking up the crochet where I left off. It was a very normal night, nothing exciting happened, but the very "home-ness" of it just felt absolutely lovely.
When I was thinking about writing this post I looked online about what others would say about what "home" means to them. The overwhelming message was that for most people home is where the people they love are, and that if you have your loved ones then you have your "home".
And yet...., and yet....
I can't quite escape the feeling that if I had taken all of the ingredients; The Big Guy, Numbers 1,2 and 3, the crazy dog, and plopped us down in another house I wouldn't have been able to make it "home" without something else. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that for me, home isn't just where the people that I love are, it is also where our life is, the place in which we do our living and also the things that we do it with. Our house if full of "stuff" that we have bought and chosen ourselves, and with those things we have built memories together; good, bad, happy and sad. When I look at my sofa I don't just see the sofa, I see books and stories and film nights and crochet....and on and on. In our garden are plants that we have put in the ground together, the climbing frame that Numbers 1, 2 and 3 have spent summers on, the trampoline where much bouncing happens.
I look round my house and I see our things, and all of these things have become part of what our home is, part of where our memories are, and between the house, the people, the animals and the multitudes of stuff - this is home - and how could home ever be anywhere else?
Where is home for you? Are your things part of home, or can you take yours with you? I'd love to know what you think.
For now, me and my sofa have a date at home.....