‘Self Inflicted’ – Counting down.
“Home is not where you have to go but where you want to go; nor is it a place where you are sullenly admitted, but rather where you are welcomed – by the people, the walls, the tiles on the floor, the followers beside the door, the play of life, the very grass.”
― Scott Russell Sanders
A more commonly known quote is “Home is where the heart is.” This is this time of year when I think of home most. Although I have lived far away from home for almost 29 years, deep within my heart and soul . . it is still home. The smells, the creaks of the floor, the front door, the snap of the cards of my father playing solitaire upstairs as I lay in bed (as a child and sometimes when I am visiting as an adult), the sound of the kettle on the stove, the Sunday night ‘getting ready for school’ ritual and my mother washing between my toes and cleaning my ears . . . . I could go on and on. What I love most about these memories is that they are only mine and no one else’s. What I like best about ‘home’ is just sitting with my parents, whether it be watching TV or sitting at the kitchen table – I can just be, just be me and they are them and the love is ours and no one else’s.
My siblings have families of their own, grown and now they have grandchildren. They are still close to home and I love how age has connected us more through our hearts than ever before. Although my one regret is (and this is not about regrets but . . . ) that I am so far away I have missed the growing up of most of my siblings children and now grandchildren. I love my family more than words can describe and the thought of home, warms my heart more than I could say. Although the geographical distance between us is far, they are never far from my heart. Home is always in my heart. With a hand on my heart and thoughts of home . . . I am there. Xo
I love you my family.
I have just decided what my new birthday tattoo will be — HOME.