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  • Writer's pictureeschaden


I got home from the East Coast last night.  It was so good to be back where I feel like I belong.  To be in a place that feels familiar.  To not be surrounded by all the people, the crushing throngs of people.  I do not like cities anymore.  And my love of people wanes as well.

It is no secret and nothing new that I long for this quieter, more solitary life.  I like my own thoughts and my feelings do not feel like  they will kill me dead all the time.  I used to need people for distraction from myself, now I just crave the simple presence of being solo.

It was great to arrive home and see that my daughter has done an amazing job taking care of everything in my absence.  Cats are good.  Dog is good.  Amazon shit put away.  She is happy, healthy and relaxed.  It is good to be home.

Of course, the path of true love never did run smooth and neither did a homecoming.  There were frustrations and I felt compelled, pushed even to bring my kind of order to the home.  After spending a little time with me, the kid was off to housesit and spend the evening with a friend.  I am not exactly sure when I lost her, but I know that she has at least one foot out the door...

I spent the evening as a whirling dervish of cleaning, washing and putting away.  But then I was able to relax, snuggle with the cats and retire.

I slept well and though the night for first time in a week.  There is nothing quite like your own bed...

Or being in the intimate familiar.  The structure and nest you built to house your life.  Your things, your organization (or not), the place where you house the life you have, the one you strive for and the one you recover from.

There really is no place quite like home.

I awoke this morning with Angus stretched across me like he was protecting me from some imminent attack, except his posture was prone and anything but prepared for an invasion. 

I sit now, with Scotch purring contentedly on my lap, snuggled in and down and letting me know how much I was missed.  Now we are joined by another purry, furry fluff ball wanting in on the action. Have I mentioned how much I fucking love cats?

I have a lot to do in the next couple of days to get ready for the upcoming holiday.  But I get to do it here.  With the beings I love most in this world, in a place that I have worked so hard to create, to curate into being a safe and loving space for all who enter.

Home is my sanctuary and I never realize just how much until I leave it behind for a little while and then am graced to return.

Home is such a metaphor for life.  It is the place that saves you, that holds you, that causes you strife and anguish and despair, but is always the place that grants you access to yourself, four walls that provide so much more than shelter from the elements.  

It is good to be home.  All feels right with my world now.  I am here with them in this place that is the foundation of my existence, created in my mind, curated in my heart.  It is the center of my community.  The place where I love, where I dwell, where I work, where I write, where I pray, where I live this most precious and wonderful life.  Again.  Still.

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