Maybe it’s the cold weather or the fact that it gets dark at 6p now, but lately I have been loving being home even more than usual.
Home is my happy place, my safe haven. A place where my family can run wild and just be ourselves, free of judgement from the outside world. Where the way we look doesn’t matter so much as the way we treat each other, and where three new childhood memories are made in the same place mine were made. I hope yours feels like that, too.
A big part of my love for our family home are the sounds within it. I was telling PJ the other day, as the washing machine was spinning in circles in the laundry room and the dishwasher was gently humming in the kitchen and the kids were laughing upstairs and our dog’s paws were tapping the floor as she walked, how much I love the every day, seemingly mundane sounds around our house. They’re something I think I used to take for granted but now focus heavily on.
I love the sound our 100 year old floors make in certain parts of our house when you walk across them. I love to listen to our cat Alyster purr when he’s happy (currently happening as I type). I love how loud of air conditioning is when it kicks on; it’s so loud, in fact, that when it stops blowing out air or heat, it feels like someone turned the loud music off at a dance party and suddenly the entire place is still and quiet. It kind of catches you off guard if you’re not used to it.
Even the sounds I complain about when they’re happening, like our oldest jumping off his bunkbed ladder and landing on the ground, making a loud THUD when his feet hit the floor and sounding like the entire ceiling is about to fall through above us, I would miss if it never happened again.
I think I just love the sounds of life happening in our house. It’s home, and it’s my favorite place in the world to be.