Whoever said you can’t come home again didn’t come from a home like this one. Here, to come home is to be delighted in, to be welcomed by the very people who make you whole.

It’s been nearly three and a half weeks since I last saw my parents, entirely too long, uncharacteristically long. The chaos of life has kept my mind and body elsewhere, but a piece of my soul will always remain here.

Tonight, the door swung wide and I was immediately greeted by the gentle embrace, the kindness, the comfort only to be provided by my mother. Welcomed by the sound of Daddy’s voice, full of love for his Baby Girl.  Familiar smells of our family home filled the air. Smells of cinnamon spice candles and scented pine cones. Smells of tea brewing and Ember hand soap. Smells of clean detergent and Precious puppy breath. Scents that remind me of where I am and why I’ve come here.

My old room has a new occupant, which is both strange and comforting, new and familiar. I left behind momentos from my early-twenty-something, unmarried life for my younger sister to inherit. They served me well, as I pray they will her (like all other hand-me-downs of mine she’s received in life).

They say home is where the heart is. Oh, the truth in those words. This will always be my home, for this heart beats for those that dwell within these walls.

—

Mama and I attempted my first Pinterest project for the new apartment.

I got many traits from my mother, all of which are fully coming to fruition as I age. We love all things Autumn. We love shopping. We love 80’s music. And if you combine shopping for Autumn decor while listening to 80’s music, well then you have our definition of a perfect day. We love crafting, creating, Christmas, and Christ. We love our memories together, and the photos we have that allow our memories to withstand time.

And as we would pray over dinner when I was a babe, “We love our bread, we love our butter, but most of all we love each other.”