They say you can never go home again and after meeting some people's families I can understand why they may never want to. But it is also true that you can never travel the same road twice and life has a strange way of sneaking up on you. While spending Thanksgiving with my Bro, Momma and Papa B, I was me and Hubby was himself. We didn't put on an act. We didn't have to be anyone else. There were a few times when our not-so-awesome-selves came out- par example- when seen fighting in the local chocolate store or overheard lecturing regarding health values while passing the highway Arby's, but a few hitches ain't so bad...I guess. Oh yeah, and there was the Dinner and a Movie event my Momma invited us to where Hubby of course hassled me about laughing too loud in the theatre, though who can resist the sound of laughter amplified by a beautifully resonant space? It would be wrong of me not to laugh out loud. No matter what, I love going home. But where does my heart truly lie?
They say home is where your heart is, and my home is in Toronto. The work I love is here, I met the man I love here, my life is here. I love the CN Tower and it's light show- currently on hold for avian migration. I love that there are kitchens in the city open for a late night eater. I love that there is sushi within 1 block of you, no matter where you are. I love the Red Rocket- even though I know I shouldn't. It feels like the start of an adventure every time I drop that shiny token into the clinking slot. I love complaining about our Dumb-sass mayor. I love how close I am to all these people I love. I love seeing a different style on everybody I meet. I love the passion for life and the hustle and bustle. How could I not love my home?
Then there's the darkness of a country road where my heart feels full. The darkness broken by the bright shining stars we hardly see in the city. I love the smells, even the poopy ones. I love the panoramic colours that span every horizon. I love the quiet. The feeling that the neighbours can hear what you're thinking. Having neighbours that have known me since I was this big* insert knee high to a grasshopper action. Here is a heartfelt welcome no matter how long it's been. I love knowing people and them knowing me. I love picking up a conversation I've been having with someone for the last 20 years right where we left off. How could I not love this home?
Hubby says creating a home is key to having a happy life. Home- a place to rest your head, your heart and your body. A place of comfort. A place to recharge your batteries. But what happens when 2 totally different places feel like home? A spilt like that can be tough to stitch together. There aren't many people who can afford two homes or even one home in this market. And after being threatened with the sale of my childhood home, I begged my parents not to sell their house; a place I consider my home. I know where all their dishes go, I planted the tree in the side yard from a sapling that was barely a stick, I know why the wall has that chip, I love this home. But Hubby, Momma & Papa B; here's the thing I want you to know, I've realized: A true home- the real place that your heart is, it's with the people and not with the buildings. Now, I have to stop, before all this lovey-dovey stuff makes me homesick-to my stomach:)
They say home is where your heart is, and my home is in Toronto. The work I love is here, I met the man I love here, my life is here. I love the CN Tower and it's light show- currently on hold for avian migration. I love that there are kitchens in the city open for a late night eater. I love that there is sushi within 1 block of you, no matter where you are. I love the Red Rocket- even though I know I shouldn't. It feels like the start of an adventure every time I drop that shiny token into the clinking slot. I love complaining about our Dumb-sass mayor. I love how close I am to all these people I love. I love seeing a different style on everybody I meet. I love the passion for life and the hustle and bustle. How could I not love my home?
Then there's the darkness of a country road where my heart feels full. The darkness broken by the bright shining stars we hardly see in the city. I love the smells, even the poopy ones. I love the panoramic colours that span every horizon. I love the quiet. The feeling that the neighbours can hear what you're thinking. Having neighbours that have known me since I was this big* insert knee high to a grasshopper action. Here is a heartfelt welcome no matter how long it's been. I love knowing people and them knowing me. I love picking up a conversation I've been having with someone for the last 20 years right where we left off. How could I not love this home?
Hubby says creating a home is key to having a happy life. Home- a place to rest your head, your heart and your body. A place of comfort. A place to recharge your batteries. But what happens when 2 totally different places feel like home? A spilt like that can be tough to stitch together. There aren't many people who can afford two homes or even one home in this market. And after being threatened with the sale of my childhood home, I begged my parents not to sell their house; a place I consider my home. I know where all their dishes go, I planted the tree in the side yard from a sapling that was barely a stick, I know why the wall has that chip, I love this home. But Hubby, Momma & Papa B; here's the thing I want you to know, I've realized: A true home- the real place that your heart is, it's with the people and not with the buildings. Now, I have to stop, before all this lovey-dovey stuff makes me homesick-to my stomach:)
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