Making yourself “at home”.

Tonight, to try to find some peace — I did a third coat of paint on the baseboards in the living room. The sooner, at least, one room is done – the better. I was finally able to hang one thing on the wall. I have mentioned before that I am made comfortable, and to feel at home, by covering the walls with memories that remind me why I am alive. Why I choose to be alive. The longer i go with bare walls, the worse off I am.

Tonight, I poured myself a glass of white merlot, painted, lit some candles and pretended like I wasn’t putting off homework in American Politics, which is, essentially, the last of my core studies. 

I feel at home here. I never felt quite right anywhere else. Married, the house I bought with my ex-husband— never quite felt like my home, always felt like the previous owner’s home. It never felt like mine. I don’t care if this place is a rental or a lease to purchase or what-have-you. I am going to make it feel like it belongs to me. I need it. I need to feel like this place is my home, that it is 100% mine in order to not dread coming home to here every day.

Tonight, after the lengthy commute, I cooked dinner, drank a glass of white merlot, in the heels and dress I wore to work today while the kids and dog played outside. Who am I? Who is that woman?!  Other women, in other lives, this comes naturally for them – for me – it does not. This is a new venture for me.

So far, this place feels more like home than any other place I have been as an adult…I don’t know what that says about me as a grown woman, divorced, with two kids who has lived in many places — but it’s the truth. This blue house feels like home.



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