Home is a feeling, not a place

I don't have any pictures because I don't want to ruin the illusion. And I haven't taken any.

The new base house is awesome. It's 1300 sq. ft., no garage, old and I LOVE IT. There's just enough room to feel cozy, to feel comfortable. Like, maybe I'll buy a sign that says: There's no place like home.

Follow me for a minute...

The Rock Creek house was nice. But it wasn't me. It was too big and too empty. It allowed for us (read: me) to keep things around because there was a lot of space.

Here, I truly feel "at home." I have friends up the street, I have friends down the street. I have friends a couple blocks away! (Of course, I have friends across the country and across the internet, but bear with me here...)

I was forced to get rid of things I did not want or need. There just isn't room for it all. I feel like I traded the junk, the thing-things, for things that mattered a little more- friends that I can rely on and call in a pinch- like when we spilled paint on the hardwood floor... and when I needed pants for a 5 year old that wet himself. One poor child was threatened with formula, if I really needed his Momma.

These are the "things" I really need. Not "stuff" to fill empty spaces. I am still unpacking and still sorting through what needs to be kept close and what needs to be let go.