Coming in for landing, at last. New home, nest, lair. New base of operations. Smaller, fewer people. Even more family-like. Priority was given to easy logistics around getting kids to school and ourselves to work, and proximity to forest. Reasonable heating costs. I’ve really grown up, haven’t I?
I’m not so averse to the thought, these days. Being grown up means a lot of responsibility, yes. But there’s a lot of freedom to it, too. Even if I seem to have fallen into using that freedom for doing all the things I adamantly claimed wasn’t included in my idea of living a good life. Like having a steady job, a family and actually caring about home decoration.
I suppose it could be seen as defeat, but in truth it feels more like having finally conquered a sense of home. The mountains up North and the stars overhead are still tugging at my heart every chance they get. The difference is that now I also have the solid conviction that my place is here. Not out of resignation. I have chosen to thrive here. It is the choosing that is the most grown-up thing of all. Committing to a decision and having the guts to roll with the consequences. Making the best of each situation instead of fearfully flitting to the next at the first sign of discomfort.
And it isn’t even this house that does it, wonderful though it is with its fireplace and garden and adequate amount of bedrooms. It isn’t the surroundings, lovely though they are with their woods and lakes and miles-wide views. It is the person I’ve chosen to live my life together with. Home is wherever I’m with you.
Love and home,
Tim
