The weeks seem to fly by at the moment, days blend into each other, I’m somehow always a day ahead of myself, lost in time but all I can say is thank god it’s Friday.
It’s been a strange week, a busy one as normal, a physically painful one but somehow I’m still standing and looking forward to a chilled weekend, as chilled as it can be living in my house. You see like most women my brain won’t turn off, I wish it would.
How I would love to not walk into a room that doesn’t look like a scud missile has gone off in, for my brain to go into over drive and have to pick up all washing, toys, or what ever has been dumped on the floor by the tornadoe of a teenager I have lodging at mine. If only I could close the door on it. If only the puppies hair didn’t drive me round the bend that I have to vacuum him a few times a day. (Don’t worry he loves it, to a point that he follows me around to hoover him, he sure is a funny little thing but boy we all love him to bits)
Maybe just maybe this weekend will be the one that I can turn off and just chill, here’s hoping. 😃
So it’s Friday again and time to look back, so I will leave you with a blog post from the happiest time of my life, where I felt at home for the very first time.
They Say “There Is No Place Like Home.”
They say, “There is no place like home.”
I find myself wondering where is home?
Home is meant to be the building you lay down your foundations and settle, that you look forward to returning to after a long hard day at work, your safe place,
it’s really like your bed, warm, comfy and you never want to leave 😉
I can truly say that I have not, as long as I can remember, felt that I have found the sense of homelyness or felt that I could call that building home.
I have lived in a few places but can I call this home?
Just because I lived there, did they ever give me the feeling of being completely at home.
To me, home should be the one place in this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.
Home should be like a delicious piece of chocolate cake you order in a restaurant on a country road, the best piece of cake you have ever eaten in your life, and can never find again.
If this is how you should feel when you arrive home, then why do I get this feeling when I’m not at my home?
Is it the building that gives you this feeling?
I find this not to be true.
For I believe that a building can not give you these feelings, but the people inside the four walls, in which they call their home.
Home to me, is the love, it’s the people, it’s the comfort, tranquility, kindness, warmth, tenderness and understanding all rolled into one that makes home what it is.
After pondering over this for a while now, I have drawn my conclusion and that is,
“Home is where the heart is.”
It not a building, a place, it’s LOVE.
It’s coming back to your partner or family, it’s just simply those four little letters, that mean the most in the world.
It’s simple really.
Love is all you need to feel at home.