Today, I'm craving quiet nights in, lounging on my own furniture, in an apartment that I can call my own. I crave candles and music and wine with old friends. I want a closet that houses the clothes I love, not the clothes I managed to fit into two suitcases. I want photographs on my walls, a happy dog by my feet and flowers in my yard.
Mom has been visiting for the past week and with her has brought the family love that only mothers can bring. Her proximity has made me think of home. Of building a home. Of finding a place to call my own. For years, I've lived in flats that aren't mine, sat on furniture I didn't pick out, sorted through boxes and clothes that have been scattered across three countries. I don't have a proper GP or Dentist. I have a cell phone in California and one in the UK. My permanent address changes depending on the landing card I'm filling out. Life has been a series of airports, airplanes, 1 year leases, weekend trips, assignments, projects and temporary plans. There hasn't been a long-term anything in my vocabulary for nearly two years now.
It has been a marvelous adventure.
But these days, I've been thinking more and more about building a nest. And finding a love that even time will stand still for.
