Home

As I sit here at my computer, like I do every morning, I'm smiling because my heart is at peace.  I'm home.


There is a certain serenity that we only feel when we're in our "home".  Our home reflects the past and present of our life and the familiarity of our home affects us in a positive way...unless the home is chaotic.  I live alone so the only chaos is that which I produce myself, usually the mess on the computer desk.


I think it's the familiarity of my surroundings that calms me when I'm home.  Of course, these days I look around to see what I can do without because I'm still in discarding and downsizing mode.  Even spotting things that I'll get rid of is a nice feeling because I can envision how much neater a spot will be once the excess is gone.


"Home" is a collection of our stuff that we accumulated for reasons known only to ourselves.  Our stuff has meaning to us.  It could be pictures, books, ornaments, or pretty much anything that we once thought we couldn't do without.  Then there comes a time when some of it loses it's lustre and we know we can let it go.  


A cold, perfect and uncluttered house isn't really a home because there is nothing to connect to.  When I walk into a home teaming with family photos or piles of toys I see the life there.  


My home isn't perfect and never will be because I tend to let my interests consume me.  Things set aside "just for the moment" often take up residence in their temporary spots.  But it all spells out "Pat's place" and people know when they come in that this is who I am, maybe a little disorganized but still okay.


Home, it's where we can relax and be ourselves.