Over the weekend, my husband and I moved out of our home of six years and into a condo.  We are both in our mid-50s, and decided that now was the time to transition to a life with just a few less demands pulling at us.

Today, I am thankful for home.

We are fortunate to be in this position, I know.  We have choices.  We have the opportunity to lean our life in the direction we want it to go.

What I am reminded of, though, is that home is not the color of the walls, the placement of the furniture, or having all the boxes unpacked.  Home is where my husband and I can sit after dinner and reflect on our joys and challenges together. Home is where, at the end of an exhausting day of work and school, I can lay my head on my pillow and sleep peacefully.  Home is where I wake to fresh coffee and a little note of encouragement left on the counter.  Home is where memories of the past and hopes for the future are woven around the present.

Home is where love is.

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