Where I can be me

I was inspired by a fellow slicer’s post about her home and as I find myself at home today…it is the perfect slice from my day.
The house where I became me.
My home.
It’s not the place in which I lay my head as of late. That’s my house.

I wonder. Does everyone feel that way about their childhood home? I know that no matter what turmoil is going on inside me, it settles the moment I enter through this door. As if some magical salve is applied to protect me from all harm.  In case you’re wondering: there’s nothing spectacular about this particular house.  It’s a standard model.

But there. That is the table where the five of us ate dinner. Every. Single. Night. No excuses.
There. That’s the tile floor where I spent hours playing at my moms feet sneaking cookies when I thought she wasn’t looking.
And there. That’s the railing that I held onto so tightly going up and down those 16 in the footsteps of my sister and brother.
There. That’s the chair my dad sat in hollerin at the tv during Bears games. You can still see the faded outline to show how much my mom loved my dad. (The wall behind him was graced with a huge poster of the team)
And over there. That’s the dog. It’s not the same dog. But there’s always been one. I can count on that dog, whichever one it is, to greet me at the door and rest her head in my lap and make my heart happy.

When my life fell apart, I left my house and came home to put it together again.

When my daughter was born we brought her to our house but I brought her to my home not long after. Even she feels the power of home.

It hasn’t changed much and I’m grateful to come home and be me.

7 thoughts on “Where I can be me

  1. House and home – you just answered a question for me…thanks – now I know how my kids feel about this house – and why I really haven’t called it home!

  2. I love your post! We moved houses quite often when I was growing up & the house I actually have the most memories of has since been demolished. You are really lucky… but I can tell from your words you already know that!

  3. This is beautiful, Kim. I love how you invited the reader to “look” with you at all the special places in your home. My mom sold our childhood home and I’d give anything to get back in there for a few minutes to look around. I know just how you feel. Great slice.

  4. Kim you are so right on. There IS something amazingly unique about the house we were raised in. Good or bad- it houses (gaarr pun city) all the memories and events that sahped us into who we are today. I so feel that way about my house I grew up in. My mom cried so hard when they sold it 5 years ago. Your words are beautiful . I got such a feel for the home (house? :)) you grew up in.

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