Things have been crazy for awhile. There was the house hunting, then the nervousness with the deal-making. Then it all went through, and all the things had to be put into the boxes and moved to a whole new place. Then we got to the new place, and there was unpacking and cleaning and furniture shopping and organizing. It's been a lot of work, with so much noise in my head reminding me of all the things still needing attention.
Saturday, a funny thing happened. I realized that the noise was gone.
There are still things needing attention. There always are. But the most of it is done. The books are in the shelves, just waiting until it's their turn to be read. The clothes are in drawers or closets. The dishes are in cabinets. And all is right with the world.
It occurred to me: this is what a home is all about. Feeling at peace. Being able to leave all the bad head noise at the door. Breathing and reading and laughing and cooking and eating and not having to worry about what's happening outside for awhile.
I have a home. I am so fortunate. And I am so grateful.