Hey I’m still doing this! There are many days I haven’t done. It’s not a write every day for thirty days, although that’s what it is trying to be. For me, it’s 30 good starters, often just words, that inspire something in me to write. I go out of order, and I just pick something on a day that feels right to me.
What better one than home? I am home. But what does home mean to me? The more I leave home, the more it means to me, and the more I realize how intricate that word is.
I have many homes, many places, many people that feel like home. For me there are a variety of things that feel like home, but for me, it’s people. People feel like home. When there are people I love, it feels safe, comfortable, and loving. Like a warm hug. As a by product, where there are people I love, there are also things I like. For me it’s a combination of the two. If there are people I love, but no things that resonate with me, it can feel a little like a vacation, or a holiday. I love knick knacks, thinymabobs, tiny treasures. I decorate book shelves, I hang up cards, wrapping paper. I love to put the things I love around me. For me, being surrounded by things I love is home, whether that be people or otherwise.
I like being with the people I love, surrounded by the knick knacks that have memories for me. I am tremendously forgetful. I don’t remember memories that well, but having a visual remembrance really helps me. I can see it, instead of it getting lost in my attic brain.
That is what home is for me. The feelings it produces are safety, security, and love.
Home tastes like hot coco. And it smells like lemon, honey tea.