This picture lives at my house, in my bedroom, next to my closet–a closet full of high heels, of course. And the words on the picture are as true today as they were on the day this wall hanging became a part of my home. For me, home IS where you hang your heels.
But…home is also so much more.
Sometimes, two places “fit,” the place where we grew up, and the place where we, as adults, choose to live. One isn’t better than the other, they’re just different, with each embodying unique meanings and feelings. Having just returned from a trip to Minnesota, in the United States, where I grew up, this realization sunk in as I flew away, back to my new home in Washington state. I grew up in between the farms of rural America, and the lovelies in this picture are my parents, with my son, Julian, snuggled in between. My parents are aging, as am I, and time with them seems precious, as well as never enough. Things that used to be important to me no longer really exist, and things that I used to “push away” are now the elements of life that I hold close to my heart. All of this, and the awareness of this, has completely altered my definition of “home.”
Because no matter where I hang my heels, a good part of my home is…them. My Mom and Dad, and every memory we’ve been blessed to create together.
Like, watching my son and Dad fish together. Taking my Mom for a walk. Smelling my Mom’s scent on the sweater she gave me. Chuckling at my Dad “reading a paper” while falling asleep.
Adjusting my brain to two televisions running at once…one with Gunsmoke playing all day, and the other with baseball on whenever available to watch. Finding Mom’s hidden stash of chocolate down by the pots and pans in our kitchen counter…then rolling my eyes at mealtime when the two of them “quarrel” over who ate more sweets for lunch.
Feeling the warmth of their hugs…smelling the scent of their skin…hearing the love in their voices…accepting their touch on my back.
Home isn’t a building. It’s not a location. It’s not the place where you sleep. It is LOVE, found within the heart, a home that exists anywhere, anytime, in all bodies willing to feel it.
The people they were…
…the people they’ve become.
And I love my home, because of them.
Thank you Mom and Dad, for giving me…YOU.