home is where the heart is

Did you know it has been exactly four months and seven days since I last plucked up the courage to click on that terrifying little pencil button which represents a 'new blog post' and began to type? That means it has been exactly four months and six days since my grandfather passed away. It also means it has been four months and eight days since I gave up with my blog and the fantasies of writing and ventured out into the nonsensical world which is Sixth Form. Strangely enough, Sixth Form grasped me by my collar and threw me head first into weeks of friends and revision and responsibility, and I adored it. I still adore it. Yet, I feel as if by abandoning this blog I am losing touch with an old friend; our texts, letters and emails are becoming so irregular that I wonder why I bother any more. I'm actually wondering why i'm bothering right now, really, but I guess I just miss being able to let my inner most thoughts flow so freely. I feel as though I am being heard by all of the wonderful people that surround me these days, but what they hear are the sugar coated sentences, packaged and placed in my voice box ready to create typical comments to insert very cautiously into typical conversations. I need to just let go. That's what i'm doing right now: letting go.

I was reading back over my old blog posts and realised that most of them focused on the beauty of the world outside the window pane. The sky and the sea and the trees in Autumn and the cars on long journeys. Yet, i'm a girl who spends a lot of her life indoors. I've begun to wonder why recently but I think, especially at Winter time, Home is where I want to be. Home, for me, is waking up, curling your toes into the blanket at the end of your bed, rolling over and going back to sleep. Home is being surrounded by people who love you no matter what, and who care for your dreams as much as their own. Home is movie marathons and mugs of tea which fit perfectly in your hand because the mug is yours and wearing your worn out pajamas all day long. Home is that place where you know you just belong.

Home is different for everyone. For some it is not within their house, but at a place elsewhere they feel like they belong. Home could be a hut on a distant beach where nobody can hear you singing in time to the waves. Home could be holding the hand of someone you love and feeling so comfortable and safe that your heart flutters with every step you both take together.

Today I am having a day where I feel completely at Home. I'm wrapped in a blanket on the sofa with a hot drink, watching movies and, most embarrassingly, cuddling my Bagpuss teddy. I am writing, I am talking, I am drifting in and out of daydreams and I am content with my surroundings. Sometimes, I wonder what it must be like to not have somewhere to call Home. To never feel comfortable or safe or protected by the dangers of the world around you. To feel so without a place to call your own or without people you care for and who care for you. Sometimes, I see a homeless person, their shoulders drooped in fear of attracting too much negative attention, their eyes so drained of hope or joy, and wonder if they have a place to call Home. Or if they ever had one. Or even know what it is like to feel at Home. Next time you're walking the streets, your head high with the hopes of reaching Home, with the knowledge you are about to receive a warm meal and a caring embrace, take a second to look down. Take a second to acknowledge those without a Home, to perhaps drop a few coins into a cup which will perhaps one day contribute to a Home. Offer a cheerful smile or a kind word or two. Share your Home with the world.

Apologies for such a long hiatus since my last post and such a poorly written return but I am very glad to be back. 

Until next time.

(Today's post was inspired by this playlist http://8tracks.com/haffalump/home)