As an adult I moved into a townhouse when I moved to Baltimore, it was where I lived. Then my family and I moved to another townhouse. We purchased a home just before my middle child was born. I like the house but it never quite felt like home. When my ex-husband first moved out, I still couldn’t connect this house with home. And now, as I look at what to pack and what to give away, I pass his clothes still hanging in my closet, bags of his jackets and shoes clutter corners. Not memories—those are gone—but actual items remain. Items take up far more room than memories do. The house doesn’t feel like a home but then again, no place does.
“No matter where life takes us, your home will always be with me,” I assure my daughter. “You will always have a home.”
I believe it—home is where your family is.
Now to start making this house feel like home; no matter how long we are going to be here.