There is nothing like being home.
I just spent ten blissful days in my hometown. Celebrating the Fourth, enjoying family time, seeing old friends and relaxing.
While it's not the house I grew up in; I feel at home in my parents' home. I leave my bed unmade, and dirty clothes on the floor. I nap on the couch, and cook in the kitchen. It's so nice to go home. To the place where I'm from. To the people who knew me when I was pigeon-toed and four-eyed.
And yet, as I returned home to California yesterday. I sat on my bed snuggling Charlotte, while I gazed out the window into the canyon behind our home. It was at that moment I took a deep breath, truly relaxed and realized I am home. There is nowhere I feel more myself, more confident, more comfortable than right here.
I don't know exactly where I'm going with this (is it obvious?) but the word Home is possibly one of the most important words in my vocabulary. So much more than a physical location, to me home is a feeling. An emotion. The people I love. The opportunity to be completely myself--to sing out of tune, cry, dance, play, and let a curse word (or two) slip--all without being judged.
I guess what I'm saying is it was great to go home for a visit; and now it's great to be back home again. So thank you to all the people in my different "homes." I love you all dearly. You are the definition of the word home to me.
P.S. These pictures have absolutely nothing to do with my rambling thoughts. Just a picture of H from our barbecue up the canyon; and Little C's "official" 8 month photo. More from our trip and other fun stuff later.