Brooke and I traveled home today.
Can I repeat that? I’m home. HOME. Where the fridge is stocked with hummus, real cream, real salsa, real butter, and lots of other real food. It’s where my parents show us pictures of their cruise, and when we say they’re tan they just laugh. (they really are tan… especially compared to their ghostly daughters) It’s where my sister and her boyfriend make Glorified Rice (aka marshmallows and jello and pineapple with rice).
It’s where we have a bathtub and nice carpet. And where someone makes dinner for 4 people, thus the food still has flavor.
And Jesus still came home with me.
And the laundry’s free.
I’m a big fan of this place. I’m a big fan of sitting on the couch in the living room and discussing a book with my dad. I’m a big fan of the place where my mom rubs my back for 20 minutes when I tell her that when I wake up I feel as sore as if I’ve been lifting weights in my sleep.
It smells good here. And I think that good smells in and of themselves are enough to make your soul feel at home. Nothing like a familiar scent to notify your olfactory senses that you are in your natural habitat.
Deep breaths of home. I’m filling myself up with home, with love, with good food, and with all the things that I love.
Hey, I think I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.