Coming Home.

This house. Its Home.

We moved in september. Small was a.m.a.z.i.n.g..... sorry A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.
She packed boxes,
She put the boxes on the lorry,
She carried them off the lorry,
Put them in the rooms they had to be in.....
And in some cases... unpacked them.
CHEERFULLY!

It staggered me. I can mostly see the kind of person she will be when she is a 'proper grown up' ... and that day it shone out of her. I was p.r.o.u.d.

Anyway, when we looked at this house, I knew, knew from when I opened the door that this was 'the one'.
It has a fire place. Ceilings that are all slopey upstairs. A pantry, fruit trees in the garden and space to grow-my-own. It also has an old shed that smells like a shed should!
Its an old house that has had a new kitchen and bathroom put in. The walls are thick and although it has no bloody space upstairs at all for clothes (grrrr) it feels like my house.. Everyone who comes to see me in it tells me that this house and I fit each other.

Mumbly and Grampy John are far enough away so's not to be able to see or hear me, but close enough to get to quickly should one of us need to.

I love it here. Dont get me wrong I loved the last house, it was much bigger in room size than this one, which was fab cos we, as a friend said "needed room to heal" (not sure how I feel about that....but anyway) but this house is our home. I feel secure. Safe. And because of that am trying and exploring things that for a long time I have shut doors to. It makes me smile when I walk in the front door knowing that indeed I have "come home".


lybxx