Home. It is the place where we are never alone, right? Both figuratively and literally, home is where I am never alone. I have a husband and five sons. I have a cat and dog. I am never alone when I am home. But even if they all left for the day and took my cat and dog with them, I am still not alone. Home. It is a place full of memories and security and safety. Even alone, the red spot on the carpet reminds me that my youngest, N, tried to sneak his Big Red into the living room and spilled it. There is a slight ding in my door frame of my bedroom where my son, L, and husband, D, were moving a piece of furniture and accidentally gouged some paint. And there is this slight, curious smell of teenage boy, both a little sweaty mixed with Polo cologne, that never ever really leaves the house.
I'm not alone here. There are pictures on my wall of my kids and husband and I. There is an adorable picture of my sister and niece from the Carolina's and the snowman they made on a snow day, which is rare, when she was just a little thing on my fridge. There is the annual picture of my mom and all of my kids and my sister's little girl with Santa. Yes, even my 18 year old son, I, still gets a picture with Santa. When I walk down the hall, all the kids individual pictures are in frames on the bookcase. I stopped with the "school pictures" about 8 years ago. I take my own now because I was tired of pictures where their hair stood up and they had lunch on the face. The worst is the fact all five have glasses and there were some where the glare from the lights made it so they looked like they were possessed by the devil.
I'm not alone here. When I go into their bathroom, there are toothbrushes and hair brushes and contact cases and deodorant littering the vanity. There are smudgy fingerprints where they don't actually use the handle to open the vanity and just grab wherever. We won't discuss the aim issue boys have with the potty. Sometimes, if the day is right, I can collect five wash clothes from the shower because, while they remember the towel needs to go in the basket, the wash cloth rarely does.
I'm not alone here. When I walk into my closet, there is a menagerie of stuffed animals in my closet. They are all trophies won or gifts bought for me by my kids or husband. I have a Fozzie that was won for me by my husband on our first family trip to Indiana Beach. I have a Snoopy, Charlie Brown and Woodstock that I got this past holiday season that my sons and husband bought me from Kohl's. And I have my Care Bears. When they came back a few years back, I had to have the Tender Heart and Love-A-Lot Bears because those were my favorite when I was a kid. I can't part with any of it!
I'm not alone here. My kitchen cabinets always look like looters came in and were looking for the "good stuff". I don't know why they root through my spice shelf, but they do! Inevitably, the can of soup they want is in the back and they knock them all over to get them. My kitchen utensils are all organized by color. I guess that doesn't work for them or maybe they are color-blind, but they are always all mixed up.
I'm not alone here. I can smell my husband's cologne and it is like a constant reminder of hugging him and cuddling with him. It is the same thing I smell when I bury my head in his shoulder when we hug. When I see the remotes all lined up in a row on the nightstand, I smile because I know D did it.
I'm not alone here. Every where I look, there are remnants of my children and my husband. And I wouldn't change it for the world. I am never alone, even when no one is around. I can hear their laughter even when they are not here.
Home. It is the only place on this Earth that even when I am physically alone, I am wrapped in the feeling of my family's love.
No comments:
Post a Comment