Twittermoms is hosting a contest to describe what home means, to us. I don’t usually enter contests, but this is a truly compelling subject.
Somewhere along the line “home” became an emotionally complicated concept, for me. I feel as though I searched for it for so very long. I searched for that place where I belonged. Where I could really breathe without fear choking me. Where I could let my guard down. Where I could find solace and sanctuary.
I have come to realize that home is not a location and that the worn out old adage that “Home is Where the Heart Is” is so true. I remember the first time that I felt home, since I was a small child. I never wanted to leave. So, I haven’t.
I knew from the beginning of our relationship that that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Adam. The first night that we spent together was not sexual. It was healing. We slept together, holding on to eachother. I felt this magical, overwhelming sense of well-being as I held on to him sharing his air, curled as tightly against his back as possible. I was finally HOME.
Each night since then, regardless of what the day has brought, I am home. Reminded of what is real, what is true, what is good. Adam holds my heart. I am secure enough in our love to allow him to hold it. So, wherever Adam is (and now, by extention our Marshall), there my heart and home are.
We are in the process of buying our first house. It is a nice, new little cape. It is close to Adam’s parents, so Marshall will still be able to see his Grammy and Grampy. It sits on an acre and a half of land, in a nice rural area. There is a brook that borders the west side of the property. We are scheduled to close on it in a month. So, I am sure that there will be many more house-related posts, soon.