I love the way the morning sun emblazons our living room with warmth and light.
I love sitting in my favorite sea foam green recliner. Sideways, my legs tucked beneath me. Mama bird perched in my nest. Reading my meditation. Journaling. Gazing, awestruck as dawn breaks and the sky dances in pinks, corals, oranges, purples, periwinkles and blues.
I am grateful and content.
Full of appreciation for our space.
I didn’t always respect our home.
I longed like a spoiled toddler for newer, bigger, shinier, better. Demanding, unreasonable, irrational.
But then I recognized what a treasure I have in my home.
A living memory. An evolving life. A witness to our past and present.
In my home I have a haven. Coziness. A self-created sanctuary.
My home is safety and protection.
In my home I have freedom.
Freedom to exist just as I am.
Freedom to venture and return to a comfortable base. Knowing with security home will always be there.
My home awaits always,
To hold space
My home is content to remain the setting for the daily exchanges that compose our lives.
And so it shall.