On our road trip, we stopped first in Portland for a look around and lunch at the food trucks at 10th & Alder. Ed was wearing a new t-shirt, an Xbox/Sounders collaboration. Turns out that was the day of a big Portland/Seattle soccer game, and we saw their t-shirts all around us. There may have been slightly hostile looks sent our way, but only slightly, because this is Portland.
While we waited for my food to be made, the vendor chatted with us, asking about the shirt, Ed’s work, and where we’re from etc. We talked of Cascadia and how similarly lovely Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver are. After more friendly banter, dude asked which one I prefer. I started to speak, and he rephrased the question to add, “Where is home?”
I halted the answer I was building, put my hand on Ed’s arm, and said, “Oh, that’s easy. Home is wherever he is. We’re together? That’s home and I”m good.”
Dude smiled, looked at Ed, and said, “Lucky bastard.”
It’s a special thing to feel that way about home, about each other. Ed and/or Kristina? That’s home. It’s why, when we are on holiday, after a day of touring, we will say, “Let’s go home,” and mean our hotel room/cabin/whatever.
Still, when we return home, we know it for the safe, comfortable nest we’ve built. We’ve feathered it with things that please us – a really firm bed, furniture large enough for my tall, broad husband to stretch out, candles, excellent knives in the kitchen, and yes, more than one bathroom.
I love getting up in the morning to fill the kettle for tea, hearing the tick-tick of the gas burner firing. I love curling up under a blanket on the couch to read at the end of the day. And everything in between.
Karen Walrond of Chookooloonks has a Babble Voices column called Bliss Your Heart. In these ten days coming up to Thanksgiving, Karen is offering journalling prompts for reflections in gratitude. As you know, I love me some gratitude. I’ll be posting my reflections here. Day 1: what makes home feel like home?