hope body oil on bathroom shelf

I just got home after spending a few days in Copenhagen with my man in what I have come to think of as my temporary second home. I feel incredibly blessed in my life right now and eternally grateful. Meeting him has turned my life upside down and has given it a new direction. It has also made me think a lot about what constitutes a home, this toting my belongings and dog back and forth.

I have always felt very attached to my home. Not geographically because it could be and have been almost anywhere in the country but emotionally. I have always needed my things around me. Putting my mark on my surroundings is and has been important to me for as long as I can remember. When I moved away from home I began collecting little things for a wall decoration that I put up as the first thing when I moved some-place new. Images from magazines, photographs, souvenirs and memorabilia, little things that inspired me and made me remember who I was and where I came from. It was blue for a long while, I always gravitated towards the deep, rich cobalt blue and I loved how it made me feel. Calm, courageous, centred. Grown-up.

My colour preferences have shifted towards the more girly, playful and feminine. I embraced pink some years ago and still have a crush on it. I love the neon tones that has been popular for a while. Pink makes me feel empowered, embracing my femininity, playful and flirty.

When I came home today and went into the bathroom and saw this display on the shelf it made me happy. It was like a warm welcome home. It makes me smile and I feel connected to myself. And then suddenly it dawned on me; I don’t miss my home that much when I’m away.

I used to feel miserable when I had to leave my home for longer periods of time and I used to need my own stuff around me a lot. I had feared it would be tough for me, this dual-residence exercise. And it is sometimes. I still feel a little bit like a guest when I’m at my boyfriend’s even though he has bent over backwards to make me feel welcome and at home. I know I can make it and I love so much more than I thought I would because I know it is temporary. I know I want it. And because home is no longer a place, it is a connection, a state of mind.

I love it here but I have somehow detached myself from it lately, on the move to something and somewhere else. This home holds memories and stories. Almost every item here has it’s own story to tell. But I am ready for the beginning of a new fairytale, a story I am not alone in creating. My co-writers are a man with his own style and stories to tell, two girls and boy with their own childhoods ready to be filled with stories that need to be told in our future home and a dog. Truth be told I don’t think the dog has that much she wants to contribute with in terms of building a home apart from the warmth of her furry body and her unconditional love.

That is what home is to me now. My love and my family. And the dream castles we build.

view into livingroom through entrance door