This week I had a bad week. Things that I didn’t think could go wrong did. I reached a new level of exhaustion that I didn’t know was possible. The planner was filled with commitments, to-do lists and reminders. This whole week was go-go-go.
But on a rare day this week, I had a small 20 minute break that I could spend with my husband. I went to visit him on campus where he is a student. We sat and talked. I can guarantee you that I was probably constantly checking the time. When it was time to go, I asked, “Walk me to my car?” As we walked, we did something we do out of habit; we held each other’s hands. “Excuse me,” a lady said, stopping us. “It is so nice to see you two holding hands. It is so nice to see young love. You don’t see that much anymore, people holding hands.” Her comments brought a smile to our faces, but soon her comments slipped away. I rushed away back to work and my husband went back to his school work. The encounter became a distant memory. But the comments swam back to me today as my exceptionally long week came to a close. I came home last night and I sighed knowing that I could sleep in the next day, sighed knowing that some of the problems from this week were hopefully unrepeatable. But I thought about what the woman said to us. I thought about how even though my schedule was crazy, I was able slip away from work to see my husband for 20 minutes. And I can guarantee you that those 20 minutes were the best 20 minutes of my day. We need to back up from all the little details of our lives and see the whole picture. Sometimes we are too close to the mess that is our lives. Sometimes our disappointments, failures, troubles seem more prominent than things that are beautiful. You need to back away and see the beauty that is sprinkled in. The irreplaceable moments that can make your day seem just a bit better. The moments you make take for granted like reaching for the hand of the person you love.
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What do you love about your home? No, I am not talking about design features like a spacious bathroom or a walk in closet. I’m not talking about whether or not you have an awesome kitchen or huge windows. I am talking deeper than that.
Home is not a place, it is a feeling. But I know how easy it is to get caught up in the four walls that surround you and how easy it is to love or hate them. My husband and I moved about a month ago and it is a bit of a sore topic. We loved our old apartment. It was our very first place together, but we loved it more than just sentimental reasons. First of all the price was right. Rent including all utilities. Then there was the fact that the place was recently remodeled. There was new paint and carpet. The kitchen was gutted with all new cabinets, flooring and appliances. You name it, it was probably new. The apartment was on the small size but it was cozy. We decorated it just the way we liked it. It was the first space we could truly make our own. We loved living there. Then the two of us doubled with the kittens, Dobby and Gizmo, and the apartment had a fatal flaw. It was not pet friendly. So the search for a new apartment ensued. The apartment we live in now was not our first choice. We had our eye on a brand new apartment building with more space and perks like a gym and pool. We walked through imagining ourselves living in this lap of luxury. Then the relator showed us the price and reality sunk in. So we settled on this place. There were never two more sour people to move. We drug our feet putting stuff in boxes. We slightly teared up when we had to remove all the artwork from walls. Seeing those empty walls made us feel a bit empty ourselves. We knew it was the right thing to do, you know, not having illegal cats in a building that didn’t allow them. We knew we were getting an extra bedroom and bigger kitchen. But nothing could ease the fact that we were compromising on our new apartment. And nothing seemed to make us stop feeling like we were leaving our home. Now that we have lived here a little over a month and all the boxes have been unpacked. The things that made the last place feel so much like home are spread around the apartment and hung on the wall. We are starting to get settled and the feeling of home is starting to come back. However, as I sit down to write this, I have become acutely aware that none of that stuff matters, the decorations, the furniture or the size of the rooms or closet. What matters about my home is who is in the home with me. I am talking about the irreplaceable items or people or animals that are in your home that comfort your heart and your soul. What matters are the two cats siting on the desk beside me while writing this post. What matters is the person I am always excited to come home to, the person who was crazy enough to decide to spend the rest of his life with me. What truly matters is that we have a space to call home. No matter the size or the space. No matter the color of the walls or carpet. What matters is that I have all the people I love are under one roof. As long as I have them, I will always feel at home. |
Marie BombeckSharing thoughts and stories that we all probably have had. Archives
September 2018
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