The Comfort of Things

I was standing outside this evening, looking through the windows at the warmly-lit living area that has been the center of my home for the past few months. There is very little inside that belongs to me. The furniture isn't mine. Most of the linens and cleaning supplies and dishes aren't mine. The electricity isn't mine, nor are the walls and floors and toilets and bed. But from the outside looking in, it felt like home.

There have been many times over the past few months that I've missed my "stuff." I have wished I had this thing or that. Hesitated to buy this or that, because I have a similar one in storage. I've spent a fair bit of time thinking about how I'll get my things when the time comes.

And yet, as much as I've missed the trappings of my own home, it has been a little bit freeing. It's not often you're able to be liberated of almost everything but the clothes you wear. I've reflected on it many times, wondering if I really need all of that stuff that I have stored away. One day, I'll be back in a home with all of those boxes and be faced with the burden that they represent. Will I remember the freedom I'm experiencing, and let some of those things go? Or will I be so happy to recover each item and remember why I loved it to begin with?

This evening, I'm very thankful to have the luxury of living in an inviting home without the burden of owning the things within it. Even though it's not filled with my stuff, it feels like home to me. (Kef will probably be chagrined to read that, thinking I might decide to just stay forever. I promise, I won't get too comfortable.)  I guess that means that "home" doesn't really have much to do with the things inside... it's much more to do with feeling like you belong. Like you have a place that feels welcoming, inviting, warm. A place where there are people and pups that you love.

My former house mid-move