The first home I painted this month was so nestled in its environment. As though the trees and gardens held the home in a safe embrace, much like the walls of the home hug the familiy within.
That’s what home is to me.
Layers of comfort and security.
Safety and belonging. A place where all is familiar and you have what you need.
Cozy places to curl up with a book. The smell of a chicken roasting in the oven. The chatter and laughter of children over the soft purr of the ever churning washing machine.
Home is where you find your way easily even in the dark, you know every part of it like the back of your hand.
Your hand drops the keys in the bowl by the door, of its own accord, never missing despite your lack of attention to the task, so well do you know the space and your place in it.
Skipping the stair that squeaks is such second nature you don't even realise you are doing it.
Because of this comfortable familiarity with the physical building and its contents, it's easy to start thinking that it is the house itself that is the home.
But I have moved around so much I have learned that it is not the physical space that makes the home.
Surprising, really how quickly we can start applying the label home to an unfamiliar space.
The sanctuary of home is an idea - a feeling that is made in our hearts and minds. It is when we bring that feeling to the bricks and mortar that accommodate us and let it breathe life into the space that the shell can become the embodiment of our home.