A House is not a Home

A house is not a home until your heart resides there.  It can be a shelter, a place to hang your clothes and rest a while, but it takes more to be a home.

The Peppercorn Cottage as D and I have come to call it, is feeling alive inside.  I had visited it three times before.  D was here.  His things were here.  But I was not.  My head was not here and my heart was not here. I truly thought that it was as I hated leaving but with each visit I opened and closed a suitcase.

I have been here nearly a month now.  In some ways it feels like forever and in others I am still a stranger here.  I have not wandered far from home.  After setting up house, I settled in to finish up some of my courses and to putting my hands to work in pies, breads, muffins and cookies.  I am learning to love to cook again.  I am filling this house with beautiful smells.  The kitchen is still new to me.  I am gaining a sense of what it is to bake a sea level.

Once again, I have a dog at my feet.  We brought Harlequin or Harlee as we call her (nearly 3 months old now) home 3 weeks ago and as you can see my shoes are not suitable for office life anymore.  This too has been a learning curve with puppy training and walks in the woods and on the beach.

I have applied for jobs, only to be rejected.  I must admit, I am feeling a little hurt by that but at the same time, we planned for me to have some time off so that I could take time to grow some roots here.  Friends and family keep assuring me that something will come along when it is time.

Much like my journey through my divorce, I keep thinking that I am good.  That I am not homesick.  This is exactly where I want to be.  I can’t imagine being anywhere else.  BUT, there it is, welling up when I least expect it. Waves of loss and grief for the people that I left behind.  You see, I am just a small part of each of their lives and although I do not doubt that I am missed, they can move on with little disruption.  For me however, all of them are missing.

The people here are lovely.  I met a few more yesterday at a tea hosted by one of the neighbours across the road.  I suspect in time, they will be part of my people too.  But, on days like today, when I listen to this house, in spite of the beautiful smells of peanut butter cookies, loaves of bread, puppy noises under my feet and Sophia nestled somewhere upstairs on our bed, I need just a little more time to have this house feel like home.

 

Times are Changing

I am a person who embraces change and can appreciate art and the right to express art any way that a person may wish.  This includes decorating ones home, furniture, clothing or body.  We are entitled to honour our beings in any way that pleases us.

I personally have not been inclined to sport “tats” but again I can appreciate the artistic talent and beauty in those I have seen others embrace, including my son and daughter-in-law.  Now I have also seen my fair share of “what were you thinking?” Beauty being in the eye of the beholder.

So here I am looking at a piece of art (I wish I could give the proper credit for the work and photo) that truly reflects how the world is changing. This princess, every bit as beautiful to the girl of today as the princess I dreamt of.

Times are changing.