It was a bit out of focus – the question of what makes a home. Four walls and a roof certainly qualify and yet, upon returning back from vacation, I realized that my four walls and a roof had lost its soul. For weeks our poor home sat lifeless. Upon arrival the plants were drooping; gone were those beautiful orchids and in their place were sticks where blooms used to be. A storm had left the pool floor laden with soaked leaves indicating the seasons was about to change. There was a staleness to the air heavy with humidity and looming storm clouds. The cupboards were bare. Only the bed made with fresh linens felt inviting and comforting. Like Scarlett O’hara, I tucked myself in, closed my eyes, and vowed to think of it another day.
Saturday finally came and my only mission… defibrillate my house. Bring it back to life and do so before CF and Zellie arrived. Suddenly, I was transported to the days we “dated” before deciding to be each other’s life witnesses. That scurry of activity so time could be completely free of the mundane activities of keeping a home. I dashed to the grocery store buying food and flowers and, of course, a couple nice bottles of wine. I then dashed home, put up my staples, lit fragrant candles, prepared dinner, arranged some flowers, and planted some orchids. Then I began tackling the pool blowing off the leaves from the deck and skimming the water for leaves. Just about that time a text came through with the news they were on their way. And so, I jumped into the shower, dried my hair, threw on some clean clothes and found my way to the living room just as CF put his key in the lock. The house smelled like us. It now looked like us. And as he came through the door with Zellie in her carrier, it felt like us.
What I realized, despite all my best intentions and my herculean efforts to renew our home’s spirit, it wasn’t until they walked through the door that the focus became clear. What makes a home is love.