Home

Home is where I am....


Back in March of  2017, just when the house was ready to go on the market, the nice staging lady suggested an upgrade for the master bedroom bedding. Somehow she did not feel the threadbare quilt that covered the queen bed conveyed the "upscale, cozy, homey" atmosphere that the price we had put on the house warranted. I hightailed it to the store and bought a fluffy comforter, pillow covers and in a spontaneous moment threw in a pillow that was embroidered with one word:  Home.   I was hoping for some subliminal advertising. See this bed? Doesn't it make you think of YOUR NEW HOME?

Subliminal advertising.

Bunny came in, saw the new bedding and glared at me. "Take this back. We no longer have a home."
There might have been just a little anger at her house being sold out from under her.

Never the less, the house sold, the bedding was packed up and brought to Colorado and Bunny survived the summer and eventually returned to school in Mississippi.

Loved that gray stripe. 

Carlos loved it too.

Perfect place to wipe the mud off his paws.

The bedding stayed on my bed until the comforter was ruined by Carlos. His dogged attempts at catching gophers rendered the quilt mud stained and no amount of washing would get it clean. I dug up an old down comforter, an even older duvet cover and remade the bed. The "Home" pillow was unscathed. It remained front and center.

A different duvet. 

A silly little three legged dog. 

And a pillow that says "home" 

A couple of weeks ago, while making the bed (a morning ritual that ensures I will come home to at least one clean room) I plopped the "Home" pillow in place and stopped. It hit me. That pillow IS home. So am I.

I just spent last week in Texas. It was fun to see my friends, lovely to visit with my mother, fabulous to go shopping, delightful to see some new art.  It was also overwhelming and frantic and hectic. So many cars. So many people. So many crazy drivers.

About the third day into the trip I was ready to go home. Not Texas home. Colorado home. Home where my things are and where Carlos is and where the fun neighbors live and where my work fills my weeks. Home where the mountains loom out my front door, where Mina plops into my lap as soon as I sit down, where the deer graze on the side yard.

This view. 

I'm still giving myself a year to fully decide "Should I stay or should I go?" That was a deal I made with myself when I moved up here full time. A year to get a job. A year to make friends. A year to put down roots.

I'm about halfway through the year.
The worst part of the winter is over. Spring is teasing, although surely there will be one more snow.
And more and more, this is looking and feeling like home.