…Thanksgivings at home. With everyone together with a million things to do and a few hands to help. With pie in the oven, turkey cooling on the stove, and the men in sweaters tossing a football in the backyard.
…movie nights with the family. Foreign films, in black and white, some in color. With salty hands from eating popcorn, squinty eyes from reading subtitles. A projector and a white wall, comfy chairs and discussions afterward.
…thunderstorms and soft rain pelting the windowsill. In-progress puzzles and just finished Scrabble. Books that are dog-eared and weathered and loved. A soft carpet for curling up on with a blanket and a pillow, because the couch is too squishy and the floor feels just right.
…feathering my nest. With treasures from flea markets and gifts from afar. The clock from the basement on a wood paneled wall. Art on the wallpaper on the walls, cool bathroom tiles, and a fire in the hearth. A place in which all of these dreams can come true.
Dreaming of my creature comforts lately…actually caught myself thinking of how nice it will be to work on my needlepoint stockings for future Christmases. I feel the ache to be home for good in my bones. I don’t feel more like myself anywhere else.