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I’m currently read a book right now called Secrets of the Lighthouse by Santa Montefiore (thanks, Mom!) (My mom and I share books). Ellen, the main character is describing her aunt Peg’s home and comparing it to hers back in London. I came across these sentences that made me pause: “Ellen sat back in her chair and let the room absorb her. Peg’s kitchen was the very heart of the home, and Ellen soaked up the love appreciatively. “
Maybe it was overthinking on my part, because I was trying to come up with something for today’s Microblog post, but it made me reflect on my own home. Where is the heart of my own home?
Every room in this house hold love and memories. The downstairs family room is where all the great TV shows are watched, where Chris and I hang out in the evenings. My spare room down that hall holds the Elvis collection my grandma passed on to me. The laundry room is where I washed the tiny baby clothes last fall, and cried because I actually had baby clothes to wash. Our kitchen is where I practice the fine art of cooking. Olivia’s room: well, that used to be storage and now it’s filled with baby books, a crib, diapers. Our bedroom is the place I opened the package Chris bought and found out we were having a baby girl.
So there is heart in all these rooms. But where would it show the most?
I remember last year, when Chris and I were drinking our coffee together on a Saturday morning and I rubbed my hand across my belly. “In just a few months, we’ll be drinking coffee together and there will be a baby here, probably sleeping across one of our chests.”
Our living room. It’s where our family gathers when they come over to visit. It’s where birthday and Christmas presents are opened and weekend coffee is drunk. It’s where Chris and I talk. We’re downstairs a lot, but we aren’t talking much. Upstairs, the TV up on the wall is rarely on when we are all home together, so it’s a place we gather to Be. To interact with each other. To play with Olivia.
It used to be clean. It’s not so much anymore. But Saturday morning, Chris and I always manage to shove aside the laundry or baby toys and sit across from each other on the couches with our coffee and talk. Sometimes we are interrupted by screeches from the baby or when she wants to electrocute herself with the lamp cord, but many times, she is down for a nap and we sit facing each other and we talk. About our marriage, about our jobs, about the things going on in our world.
If you had to think, where is the heart of your own home?
You can find more of this week’s #MicroblogMondays posts by clicking here.