home in this place

i came home from the grocery store last night exhausted with nothing to show for my work save a box of hamburger helper and a bag of ham-beens 15-bean soup. and i found robert by the computer, working on plumbing tickets, sipping what i'm sure was his fourth or fifth cup of coffee.

and in that moment, with pablo sitting on the green chair in the corner, it felt like home. felt like a few months ago, when i would return to the cottage to find him in the same position, pablo still patiently waiting.

because this is how you build a home. you stop the decorating for a second. the hanging of pictures and measuring of blinds. the arranging of china and selection of rug textures, colors and prices. i found, this time around, that taking time to step back from designing a home and actually learning to live in it, weekday by tedious weekday, makes the transition easier.

it's the hairbands on the bathroom counter. the shoes by the doorway. the laundry in the dryer. the way the comforter crumbles under the weight of tired arms. the reverb of the lawrence welk record in the den as eggs are scrambled in the kitchen. the late-night devotions and early morning prayers in the driveway.

and it's the lamp with the elephant-shaped handles in the corner. reminding you of another life, time and place. of all that has been and will be and is happening right at this very moment. that home really is the people in it, and all their sounds, messes, piles, smiles and smells are the symphony to which you dance by, day-in and day-out.