isn't it interesting what home is. home is a place you feel safe. sometimes it is a tent, or a car, or a hotel room in a strange city... i have felt "at home" many times in my life when i was the furthest i could be from my actual residence... because of my company. more than once i have described love, as home. i suppose that is true in this instance as well.
i live alone. for the first time in my life. when i moved in, it felt tiny and lonely. i hated it. i think it was mostly because at that point i kind of hated myself... my situation. i didn't want to think about who i was and where i was... what my life had become. it was a really hard time. now, i have loving memories of days in that space. i have learned to love it for what it is. a launching pad for where i am now in my life. i have spent so many hours in that apartment... painting and thinking... slowly making a home... a place to rest and reflect. home is something you can feel alone. i didn't think that was possible for a long time. solitude can be healing. you can learn a lot when you have honest conversations with yourself. i know i have.