If walls could talk...

I am surrounded by safety. I feel warm fuzzies inside my heart, because I know I am loved here. If walls could talk, I think this home would have some complaints. Maybe my brother and I fought too much. Maybe my years of puberty and mood swings faded the paint. Maybe there were times I was too much. Maybe there were times I was not enough. But this home. This. Here. Now. This home created a space where I felt comfortable enough to embrace the evolution of my growth.

These walls stood tall as my mother and father cradled me home from the hospital as a newborn. It has been witness to every birthday candle I've ever blown out. From the first steps I took on my own to those days in elementary school when I could have been a professional pony tail slicker-backer. Through the awkward middle school and brace face days, to my first day of high school (when I was entirely too dressed up). These walls remained strong after endless hairspray sessions before school dances and camera flashes when that hair was finally perfect. It tolerated every moment- all the way until graduation day, when my cap and gown signified my departure for college.

Every time I walk through that front door- to the familiar scent of apple cinnamon- I am reminded that love surrounds me every single day. I am at peace. And during those first few weeks of college, when I was terribly homesick, I made that trip back home. The moment I turned the door knob, everything was suddenly okay. Because I knew my family was waiting inside of this house. And that's a feeling I will never forget.

So, if these walls could talk, I think they would say, "thank you." Thank you for bringing love to an emotionless structure. Thank you for the musical laughter of childhood giggles that radiated through these halls for years. Thank you for running around the island and slamming doors and crying into the covers and hugging each other often. Thank you for fighting until you made up. And in moments of tragedy, thank you for holding it together. Thank you for praying for each other and encouraging greatness. And thank you for always ending the night with the melody of "I love you's."

As I depart for graduate school, I know the next time I turn that door knob, it will only be for a visit. Because I'm growing up and it's time for me to build my own walls. In certain ways, I feel like everything is different now. But in other ways, not one thing has changed. Because the next time I turn that knob, I know that same smell of apple cinnamon will greet my heart- and I will feel love. Because my family will be waiting inside.

"We made this house a home. And, in turn, this home offered us a place to love."

**I wrote this blog during my last summer home. I waited to post, because I wanted it to be in a moment when these words provided comfort to my homesick heart. And I think today was the day I needed them most.**