We walked in the door and everyone embraced being home. Hubs unloaded the car. I started the laundry and unpacking. Eight plopped onto the couch and just lay in silence for way longer than usual. Six ran around frantically introducing his new toys (thanks grandparents and road-trip trinkets!) to his old toys. Three immediately changed into a princess dress. Ah, it was good to be home.
They say home is where the heart is, where you lay your head, and where your Wi-Fi connects automatically. Based on my experience, I say home:
…is where the bin overflows because you managed to miss two garbage days, even though you were gone only one week.
…is where the toilets need to be cleaned, even though they weren’t dirty when you left and no one used them while you were gone.
…is where the piles didn’t magically organize themselves while you were away.
…is where you can’t tell if the mail got held, because you what’s in your box has postmarks scattered enough to make you wonder if the mail was held at all or if this is really all one gets in a week.
…is where you have more loads of laundry than ever, even though you did laundry before you left AND while you were away.
…is where one-day-til-expired milk is all that’s in the fridge and no one feels like meal planning or grocery shopping.
…is where obvious systems of unpacking go unnoticed by kids asking questions that start with “Where’s my….”
…is where you can’t find that one thing you know was in the car but is nowhere to be found even though the car has been thoroughly emptied.
…is where the doors and floors still creak, even though you gave them all a week off.
…is where your apartment management didn’t seem to notice you were gone and just kept taping notices to the door so you’d know they’d be coming to check the furnace and laying new asphalt the day you return.
…is where all that stuff you put off thinking about and doing until you got home comes with even less motivation now that you actually are there.
…is where the dishes still stack even though there’s still no food to eat.
…is where a kid poops on the floor before you even have the car unpacked.
…is where you walk in to things no better than how you left them, but you’re still relieved to be there and love more than ever the people who live there with you.
…is where the travel ends and the new set of days begins.
May your returns to primary dwellings be home-filled and uneventful.
What is your Home is where…? Please comment below!
