home

it used to be a farmhouse, i think. a white house with a big wrap around porch. two curves on either side of the front door where the house bows out creating large circular nooks just begging for rocking chairs, a glider and a table to set down my lemonade. there's a garage to the right connected by a covered path and four dogwood trees in the front yard blooming with white flowers. the grass is overgrown and an old pick-up truck has been parked in the driveway so long it won't move. i have watched with curiosity to see if the vacancy ever becomes a for sale or rent sign but there's been no sign of life there for at least the past five years. this farmhouse is home.

it's an open contemporary space, with natural light filling the rooms ceiling to floor. the floor and cabinets are all dark cherry, with steel and glass breaking the depth with shine. the space needs 'rooms', but the possibilities are endless. the view from the loft is the atlanta skyline colored in orange and red and white and the soft hum of traffic and the city street noises send energy up in wafts of excitement and buzz. i smell coffee and food and smoke from the balcony and am surrounded by voices of neighbors, known and unknown. this space is home.

it's a 1930's bungalow on a street lined with oak trees and parallel parked cars. it's brazenly painted in bright colors that look a bit uncoordinated, but could be tweaked to perfection. maybe repainting the trim would solve that and certainly a climbing rose and ferns on the shaded porch would do a lot. the hardwood floors creak in certain places and boast signs of furniture and shoes and children. the built in book cases flanking the paned windows are begging to be filled and the sunny kitchen overlooking the lush garden is hungry for a home cooked meal. this bungalow is home.

home is where the heart is.

i look at homes everywhere and imagine my life in them. my heart is splintered in this way. and yet obligated to a home that does not fuel my imagination...

but when i take a closer look at each home my heart desires, i find there are some distinct similarities. each is filled with my boys. each is filled with flowers. each is filled with books. each is filled with my pets. each is filled with beauty. each is filled with life. each is filled with love.

and then i look around at the house i am impatient to sell and realize that it is where my heart is.

for now.

this house is home.

d: a house reflective of the love that fills it. now and next.
b: i have a home to house my heart.
g: the housing market is turning around.