‘Go Big,’ or ‘Go Home’
Seriously, But What if I Want to go Home?
What if going home is what I look forward to all day?
What if ‘going home’ is my idea of BIG?
Home is where the heart is.
Home sweet home.
Home is where you can be yourself.
Home is whip off the bra, and pour me a glass of wine time.
Home is slouching on the couch, with the cat purring on my chest as I try and navigate my head around him to sip my drink.
Home is wandering in my garden in the evening, when all is quiet, holding the hose as I water my plants. I think of the lizards who will come out later and get a drink of water off the leaves. I think of the frogs and other creatures who wait for me to water each night in this time of drought. Watering my garden is valuable. It is small and insignificant to all, but for this little green frog, in this garden of mine, that nobody else knows exists, it is his world. I am his candy store. His survival. I am important.
Home is my dog welcoming me like he thought I had died and he never would see me again. And yet now he has.
Home is where my husband and I clasp our hands around each other and hold each other. And breath. And feel safe in each others strength and arms. It is standing for a moment together, silently, holding each other, in the quiet of the kitchen, in the dusk, as the sun disappears.
Home is where I cook and share meals with my family. The sizzling of onions in the pan filling the house with their aroma, signaling a meal is about to be served. The excitement as people gradually come out from their rooms to ‘see’ what is happening in the kitchen — morphing into view then disappearing.
Home is where my kitchen is. The hub of family life. The place where people go to share. To eat, to converse, to discuss their day. A place I can GIVE to my family. Nourish them. Watch their enjoyment.
Home is where on some evenings, my husband sits at the end of the bed as I read my book and silently pulls off one sock at a time, and starts to rub my feet. Just rub them. It is bliss. Total bliss. I close my eyes and enjoy. He does this with no thought of anything given back in return.
Home is where I sometimes get my feet rubbed for no reason at all, and it feels so good.
Home is where I feel safe at night as I collapse into bed and feel the weight of the mattress slightly give under me. I love my bed, and my bed loves me. I feel myself sink into it at the same time as consciousness slips away. I awake and feel refreshed. Sleep is always better in my bed at home.
So, I ask, what can be BIGGER that will KEEP ME AWAY from home, be better and more fulfilling?
NOTHING.
There are only so many material things that money can buy. Earning money is a means to bring me back home. Home is the reason I exist.
It is not bricks and mortar.
Home is a place in my heart.
Home is with my family and the person I love. It sometimes is just me, sometimes my garden, or my mattress or the freedom to be myself and wear what (or nothing) I like. But it is always peaceful and on MY terms, and I answer to nobody.
Life is lived on my terms at a different pace in my home.
Go HOME, don’t go BIG.
You are BIG in your own HOME.
