I have moved a lot over the years (and I mean a LOT), and there is always that adjustment period when a new place is nothing but all my stuff in a new building, when I just haven’t melded with my new surroundings yet. I have been putting a lot of work into cleaning, cleaning out, organizing, rearranging, and personalizing this house, and glancing around, I continually see more weekend projects and manual labor ahead.
The other night, I wandered into the living room without flipping the lights on, and I settled into the corner of the couch to talk with Gary on the phone. I had lit a candle earlier, and the glow of the flame flickered in the mirrors of an antique chifferobe that was Gary’s mother’s, and the room was bathed in a soft, comforting light. For the first time since I moved in, I looked around and simply felt at peace, pleased with the work I have put into the house, comfortable and relaxed. I smiled as I realized that this house has now become home.
It’s a nice feeling.