It’s where you feel safe, warm and happy. It’s where your loved ones come to visit, and you lounge in your pj’s all day, eating food that makes you smile from your gut while sharing laughs with those who know you the best. It’s where you snuggle on the couch with your special one and enjoy bad tv and good blankets.
Last month I bought our first one.
But you weren’t there to sign on the other dotted line.
You weren’t there to calm me down when the invasive process became overwhelming at times and I wanted to throw in the towel.
You weren’t there to put the key in the door and smile that big, amazing grin and fill this bright space with that big, bold laugh.
Just what we imagined.
Not too big. Not too small. Lots of light. Full of love. And even though you’ve never physically seen it, I feel you here.
I can’t explain it. While some moments feel so quiet, most don’t. And that helps me realize it was the right decision.
It’s a place I can breathe. It’s a place I can cry. It’s a place I feel safe and as happy as I possibly can these days. It’s peaceful and warm.
Lola already has her favorite spots.
You know how she normally stays right by my side when we walk into a new place? Not this one. She knew it was hers – ours.
I bought our first place by myself. It’s hard for me to get over that fact. We did all of the work leading up to this moment together. And then only I was around for the final pay-off.
I know you’re proud of me.
I know you’re happy.
I know you’re also proud that you made sure your girl was taken care of.
We planned so much. We tried to follow the rules: go to school, get married, buy a home and then…
Our jobs, really my job – kept us all over this country. We had a difficult time deciding where we should settle down. We tried to reach a place that would ensure our security and safety for years to come. But what good is any of it without you here to bug me with the wet sink counter or dirty socks by the couch? What I wouldn’t give to see your smile now that I’ve finally started cooking again or to take out the trash or fix the garage when I backed into it the other day.
Sometimes I do really well at fooling the world.
Other times, the concentration it takes to be “normal” hinders my ability to handle the small things; the things I never had an issue with in the past – like backing out of the garage without ramming into the door or tearing off the passenger sideview mirror.
Yup, it’s been a great week. NOPE.
Oh, this new normal.
I’m doing it.
One step at a time.
At least now I have a home– our home– where I can truly rest my weary heart and feet.