A house and a home

I love going back to NYC. My heart and soul are from Brooklyn and even though I am not living there now, I still consider it as a home of sorts. It's funny because, I really no longer have a home to go to anymore. My Dad moved out of my childhood home into a new condo, which was a good move for him. But, to me, that is not home. I have no connection to this new place. My childhood house is no longer. It has been demolished for the sake of progress and increased housing opportunities. The land on which the house previously existed is now combined with two other pieces of land and will eventually be the locale of a new condominium.

But this weekend I went to NYC to celebrate a new home. A home to friends very dear to me. D and S invited us into their new house, their home, to celebrate and be surrounded by friends and family. One can always tell when a house is a home. It has that warm, soothing feeling as you enter the door. It has that joy of people who can say, "This is where I come to be with those I love." And their new home says that. It said that when I went to visit several months ago and again this weekend.

I have posted recently that I have moved several times in my life already. The most recent being slightly over a month ago. And although I have lived in my new place for a relatively short time, and have still not fully unpacked, I already feel at home. It has the love and comfort that we all wish to have in a home. My fuzzy baby has already shown me that he feels like it's home by rolling onto his back while sleeping and showing me his little pink tummy. I think we are all beginning to feel secure there.