My House, My Home.

I love my house.
I will never forget the first time I saw it. I fell in love with it immediately. I remember it, as it was yesterday; the drive up the blind road, reaching the top of the hill and finding paradise on earth. It was a warm, sunny July afternoon; the sky was baby blue, full with those beautiful, light, fluffy white clouds. The house was the first end house out of 5-whitewashed brick chain houses. It was the last structure up the road, on top of the hill, hidden from view. But absolutely not lacking The View. A view out of this world. The whole city at one’s feet, the roof tops, the harbor, all visible on a clear day. The serenity and the feeling of “never wanting to leave” hit me.

So I did buy it, although I really couldn’t afford it. And today I know it was the best thing I ever did.
Although I officially still live in the city and it only takes about 10 minutes drive to reach the downtown, I am also on the outskirts, surrounded by nature. In the summer, I see horses grazing not far from the window of my study, and I can follow the seasons by looking at birch trees and the never-ending cycle of the changing of their foliage. And I can see the sky from my large windows facing west, where I watch the sunsets, magnificent sunsets that makes me forget troubles and sorrows and only makes me marvel at nature and how beautiful it is, at all times. I so enjoy being at home, that traveling has now become obsolete and holds very little real pleasure for me. I still do travel, even though quiet reluctantly, as I love the feeling of returning home.

I can only really enjoy my house on the weekends. During the week I work long hours. When weekend comes, I spend fixing anything that needs to be fixed or improved either inside or outside, cleaning and gardening.
But comes Saturday afternoon, I love to just sit and relax, reading magazines, drinking coffee and listening to Mozart, with only my house as a company. Well, and Batcat of course. And occasionally a very handsome Irishman. The weekends, when he is around, I am truly happy, as then my world is complete.

Home, after family, is one of the most important things in life. It can mean different things to different people; a safe harbor, a serene place, a quiet place, or a place filled with laughter of children and voices of loved ones. A messy place or a place of order. A clean, stylish and modern place. Or a sentimental place, filled with memories and cluttered with things of affection. An old, familiar and cozy place or a new place, promising a fresh start.
But always a place one loves to return to, a place where one can just be.