A house becomes a home
During my childhood, the house that I lived in for so long was a part of me. My family had moved when I entered high school and ever since, I never felt that comfort from the past house. Moving through apartments in college and the time there after, I had no connections with any of my living quarters. It was simply a place to serve the purpose of putting a roof over my head and having a place to sleep.
I bring this up because things seem to have changed for the better. It is a very miserable, cold and rainy day. I haven’t had the best of luck lately, but it just felt so good to walk in the door tonight. Even the noises that the house made while walking on the floor added to the comfort. This place is home.
I’ve lived here for a few years now, but this feeling is a little new. Part of it may be attributed to my sister in-law moving out not too long ago, or the increase in the dosage of my medication two weeks ago. Perhaps it is just a mood that I am in that will be gone in the not too distant future. Either way, I like where I live rite now. It’s not just a place that serves its purpose.