H-O-M-E...

I'm just going to come right out and say it.... home is a four letter word.

I think that it's really sad that I feel that way, but I do. It's been such a long long time since I have felt "home", I almost wonder if it even exists anymore.

I am a little domestic homemaker at heart. All I have ever wanted is to be a mom, stay at home with my kids, and make a loving wonderful home to dwell in where we can all feel love, comfort, acceptance, peace.....

I love my memory, I can remember all kinds of random things that don't matter or don't make sense. For the most part my memories are good ones that make me smile or laugh and feel blessed and loved.

However....

The home memory is a tough one. I was the type of teenager that couldn't wait to get out of the house, be out on my own. I moved out a few days after I graduated high school. I came back when Trent and I were engaged to pass the few months until we were to be married. Once I was married I could not wait to start building our "home" together.

That was all stripped away. I remember the day so vividly. I had the day off work and I cleaned our whole cute apartment. I loved this apartment, I painted pictures for the walls. I was decorating each room with our new things (being newly weds and all). I remember sitting on the couch talking on the phone to friends..... so comfortable.... so peaceful.... in my nice clean house that I share with my husband. Life was great.

I think that it's hard to get over something when you feel so completely violated. I really believe that for the most part our paranoia's are earned.

I have a hard time thinking about that apartment without thinking about the bad. There was so much good that went on there!!! But the instant I think of that place I remember the night when a stranger walked into MY HOME.... and turned it upside down and inside out.

Raked his dirty fingers through everything that I owned. Everything that meant something to me. Everything that made being home special, and private, and peaceful. There were months that I couldn't look at a piece of clothing or anything that I had for that matter without remembering that he had touched it, thrown it around, stuffed it in a bag, spilt candle wax all over it.

He had been there for hours!!! It was a small apartment so there wasn't much to go through, so he sorted through it all. He had found stuff that we had lost and had no clue where it was.

From that moment on I have not felt that peaceful feeling of home. Part of it is because wherever we move I tell myself that this is just temporary, it's not our real "home". We wont be here forever, so don't get too comfortable.

So I haven't...... for four years.

My heart is longing to feel home again. I know that it's 99% my fault and that I need to get over it. I am the one holding onto the past, past feelings, past emotions..... it's past!!!

I'm really hoping that when we move into our new place that I can MAKE it feel like home. I don't always want to feel like an enemy in my own house. Like there is something in there that is going to betray me. I don't want to every time I leave go through the things that need to be locked up in case someone gets inside. That is no way to live...... really!!!

It's time to move on. If not just for my sake but for the sake of my family. I don't want my little boy to never feel the joys of a nice safe home.

This has been one of the hardest parts of finding a place to buy. Because it's so important that it be the right place. A place that I can feel safe, and be myself.

We have found the place... and I think that I am now ready to make it home.... a real home.

Okay, now that I have poured my heart out about my current feelings on this subject.... what do you think makes a house a home? What do you do to make your place a home?