Our (Gingerbread) House

This house - which we bought at Trader Joe's in kit form, and planned to bring to the trial team party - was unfortunately too unstable to transport so we were forced to keep it (and eat it!)... 

And it got me thinking about all the different ways that a person's house becomes a home.  Sometimes, this is accomplished through infusing the space with personal touches (painting the walls, hanging lots of pictures, and decorating) and sometimes by virtue of simply living in a place long enough.  Over the last seven + years, I've lived in two dormitory rooms (a triple and a double), in a house with five other girls, in a studio apartment on my own, in my own house with a roommate in Helena, Arkansas, in a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate, and here, in a pretty tiny one-bedroom apartment, with Todd.

Most of the places I've lived have felt more like spaces I happen to be inhabiting at the moment.  I walk around, make meals, sleep, and leave, and throughout the experience, my attitude to the surroundings is neutral and fairly indifferent.  I never really had an impulse to really make a place my own - even the house that I bought - or at least an impulse that lasted longer than putting up a pretty shower curtain, and hanging a few picture frames.  I never really took on a cooking experiment more challenging than noodles, or learned how to properly vacuum and dust.  The places were more like temporary stopping grounds in which to change, eat, and rest before heading back out into the world again.  I never felt completely at home.

With this apartment, it's different, and I think it's in large part because of the fact that this is the first place that I've ever shared with someone outside of the roommate context.  Although a couple's decision to live together can bring up all sorts of issues with family members, luckily, ours didn't.  And gradually I realized, as Todd built bookcases,  and installed a key shelf and I arranged paintings and photos, as we chose sheets and comforters, towels, kitchen supplies, and a nice TV, that this was not just another place to live; this is our home, and we are building it together.  The thing that makes it a home is the love for each other that encourages both of us to care for and enjoy this place.  Lately, when I'm baking a loaf of bread, or at night, when the candles are softly glowing and the Christmas tree fills the room with its wintery scent, I don't feel as if I'm just spending time in the apartment until it's time to "go home" to Mom or Dad on a visit.  

This is home in which we love and share with one another, and I come back to it every evening with a light spirit and happy heart.