To be honest, we don’t have a fireplace, so we don’t have a hearth. And if we did it would be WAY too hot for a fire today…
But “hearth and home” is such a cozy phrase. After the emotional exhaustion of the really-quite-successful family dinner last night, I’m feeling desperate for some hibernation time. If I didn’t love summer so much I’d be wishing for a blizzard that would keep me inside my beloved home for days.
We’ve lived in this house all but three years of our married life – almost 29 years, to be precise. Having moved quite a few times as a child, this house, even with all its foibles and much-needed updates, represents to me all that is safe and loving.
A few highlights of those 29 years:
•three babies brought home for the first time
•nearly 60 birthday parties
•29 Christmases – from day one we insisted on Christmas Day in our own home.
•ROFL moments, over and over and over again, with my four favorite people in the whole world
•more DIY projects than I could count, including many successful redecoration efforts
•serious illness and a recovery that took many long years…yes, even the traumatic memories are important. Though I might often wish we hadn’t had to live through them, they are a big part of who we are.
Coming home from my 6:30 am walk today, the sight of my home ahead of me filled me with joy. And yet there was a tug of sorrow, because our Oldest, the first baby to bring our home to life, is so far away now. Quickly I snapped a photo with my phone and texted it to her with the words “Our house misses you.”
So do I, dearest child of mine.