Sunday, April 4, 2010


2 : the social unit formed by a family living together

When A was about 18 months old, J and I returned home from a trip to visit family. A, to our surprise, ran from room to room in the house. It took us a few minutes to see that she was making her way through every room in the house. A ended in her own room, where she basically threw herself on her floor and laughed. Looking at each other in surprise, we realized she was happy to be home.

Tonight our whole family felt like that 18 month old. After a fun, but quick trip to visit family in Alabama, we were all tired and very ready to be home. A few miles away from our house, J leaned over to me and said quietly, “When we get home, can we just sit for a little while? With no noise at all?” It will come as no surprise that I heartily agreed to this. What was a bit more surprising was the quiet that enveloped our house for the hour between our arrival and bedtime. Each girl went to her own room, where the older two curled up with a book and the younger started creating her own book about her weekend out of town.

It’s a blessing to have family near enough that we can visit for a weekend, even if it does leave J and I dragging on Monday. K had a fabulous time playing with her cousin who is six months older and it’s always a treat to head a few hours south and glimpse the Spring that will slowly be making its way to our very own neighborhood in a few days (or weeks). J commented today at lunch that one nice thing about this annual visit is that we get to be guests. We eat food that someone else lovingly prepares for us and get to just relax. But there’s something about home…

As I put A to bed tonight, I told her the story about that long-ago day when she was so happy to get back to her very own house. Wise beyond her years, she said, “My home will always be where my family is. It’s fun to visit, but I like to be home. People call a house a home, but that’s just because their family lives there.” Hearing her say those words brought to mind another memory of home.

J and I were living in Columbus, OH and I’d been out of town. I don’t remember where I’d been, but I do remember thinking, as the plane landed in this city where I lived for less than a year, “It’s good to be home.” “Home?” I thought to myself. And I realized that home was where J was. We were newlyweds then, but this was a truth that I learned early and still feel – home was with J.

So as much as I love visiting family in places near and far, I love our cozy home full to the brim with books and girls – and those I love most on this earth. Welcome Home, indeed.

1 comment:

Variations On A Theme said...

Just to let you know, we're all your home is in Nashville now.