Renting is not for the faint of heart. Knowing that a random line of strangers lived here before you. You never quite settle in because this is not yours--you don't own it. No warm, inviting paint colors or permanent pictures of the family on the walls. No door frame to mark the growth of a child and certainly no loving animal waiting to welcome you home. Living somewhere semi-permanently but never really feeling "at home" because you know, at any time, you could be made to leave. My homebody soul is slowly inching toward the door. I need a space to call mine--to mold and change with my aesthetic. My mind is ripe with ideas for decorating my make-believe palace and my dreamer heart is about to burst for waiting. There is such a comfort in home. It's where warm, fresh-baked cookies live and tacky, redneck Christmas decorations stay in the yard all year long. Home is where you stay in bed all day and watch movies in your underpants. Home is where love is. Someday, hopefully soon, we'll find a home of our own.
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