When my family moved into our last apartment, our final stop before purchasing a home, I barely furnished it. “Were only here for a little while,” I would offer as explanation for our couch with no coffee table, our table pushed awkwardly in the corner. Little by little the bedrooms became more homey; it was pretty inevitable that the places where we slept and dreamed and snuggled would feel more like home.
The living/dining area stayed the same, though, and I rarely liked to spend time in those rooms. “All you need to do is rearrange a little,” my older sister would urge me if I complained, but I would write off her advice, thinking “we’ll be out soon enough.” And then one day, frustrated by the big blank space that so often filled up with toys and household junk, I rearranged.
I looked at the spot and allowed myself to think of it as home, to remember that home is simply where my family is. I looked at the spot with intention. Where could I put the table to make serving food more convenient? Where should the couch go to offer a comfortable spot for visitors? Didn’t I have a little table in storage I could dig out? So I rearranged the room and it looked great. It felt great. It felt like home, as it should have. Nothing bought or spent, just a fresh look and a fresh outlook. [Read the full article]