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My husband and I married seven years ago, and we’ve moved about every year since.
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#THIS AMERICAN LIFE NO PLACE LIKE HOME DRIVERS#
Even though we live 3,000 miles apart, if I walk down the street and someone is wearing it, I immediately feel like I’m home.Ī zone where my boss, pesky customers, and bad drivers are absent and where the absurdities of the day can be shared―unchecked, unedited, and without remorse. Home is where the rags of your life are turned into quilts, lemons become lemonade, and a few extra pounds are simply welcomed as “more of you to love.”
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Home means catching fireflies out on the front lawn with my brother. Home is a place of love and comfort that always welcomes you with open arms―and perhaps a plate of freshly baked cookies. I can put on my pj’s and sit down with a glass of wine right next to the dust bunnies―and they’re fine with it. It’s knowing that no matter how hard times get, someone is there for you. Home is being around people who can drive you absolutely crazy one moment and make you feel like a million dollars the next. If I want to make fried bologna with a side of couscous or have a cackling laugh attack watching I Love Lucy, I can, because I’m home.Ī warm dog curled up by your feet at bedtime. Whether I’m in my husband’s warm arms or smelling the sweet smell of my newborn baby, home means always having someone to nuzzle with before drifting off to sleep.Ī place where I can be 100 percent me. Wherever we’re together, that’s my home.” After 12 years and two kids, it’s still true. The lyrics are “I’ll never be a stranger, and I’ll never be alone. “You’re My Home” is an old Billy Joel song, and that is what is engraved on the inside of his wedding band. Where I can be naked, both emotionally and physically.Īnywhere my husband is. Home is a place you can feel comfortable cooking breakfast in your pajamas.Ī clean, fresh, lemon-scented living room, open windows, plenty of sun and warmth everywhere, and my mother’s cheese pie baking in the oven. Home has been many places for me over the years, but its comforts are defined by simple, blissful moments like these. The sensation of peace on a cozy, rainy Sunday the feeling of relief when you pull into the driveway after a long trip a quiet kiss on the head of a baby asleep in my lap and the warmth of my husband’s arms. Houses get bought and sold a home stays with you always. (Iowa for him, Delaware for me.) Now that we’re adults, home is wherever we gather with our family and friends. Before we became nomads, we thought of home as where we had grown up. My husband and I moved our family 10 times over a period of 22 years. A warm bed that you can’t get out of in the morning, a tiny pink toothbrush in the bathroom, and the sound of my husband’s key in the door at the end of the day.