homes and endings...
people say that who you are is based on your home life. this is true i am sure.
but what about the home itself?
~a house is as individual as the owners.
a house can smell musky and cluttered or new, like fresh paint and varnish. a house can be constantly scented with home cooked meals, or warm laundry, or stale cologne.
the walls can be stucco or brick, they can be painted a simple beige or an earthy red.
and whether the house echos with the sound of children, music, or silence; somehow the sound, the color, the carpet, the smell; they all seem to fit together in seamless symmetry~ far more complex than any blueprint could embody.
my house is sleek, with polished hardwood in sunlight rooms. my house is large, but not so large as to let the air become cold and still. my house has a way of breathing. my house always feels best in warm weather. fragrant summer air is chilled as it floats from room to room. everything seems so much calmer then, like your whole body is drifting freely with the air surrounding you.
its so strange to me that in a year, we will leave our homes, forced to live surrounded by unfamiliar sounds and colors a scents.
i know unconsciously our bodies will except it, and forget everything that seemed so comfortable before, and we will find comfort in new places and people. it just seems sad in a way.
everytime you begin to accept a new sort of normalcy in your life, it shows that the part of your life before~ with old comforts and different normalcies~ is over. a part of your life is over and you can never get it back or relive it.
in less than two years, when i go "home" i wont be coming back to this house. when i hear footsteps, they wont be my mothers. when i breathe in the summer air it wont ever smell exactly the same as it did in my house.
i know that life has just as many beginnings in it as it does endings, but i guess sometimes i wish there were a few less endings.
but what about the home itself?
~a house is as individual as the owners.
a house can smell musky and cluttered or new, like fresh paint and varnish. a house can be constantly scented with home cooked meals, or warm laundry, or stale cologne.
the walls can be stucco or brick, they can be painted a simple beige or an earthy red.
and whether the house echos with the sound of children, music, or silence; somehow the sound, the color, the carpet, the smell; they all seem to fit together in seamless symmetry~ far more complex than any blueprint could embody.
my house is sleek, with polished hardwood in sunlight rooms. my house is large, but not so large as to let the air become cold and still. my house has a way of breathing. my house always feels best in warm weather. fragrant summer air is chilled as it floats from room to room. everything seems so much calmer then, like your whole body is drifting freely with the air surrounding you.
its so strange to me that in a year, we will leave our homes, forced to live surrounded by unfamiliar sounds and colors a scents.
i know unconsciously our bodies will except it, and forget everything that seemed so comfortable before, and we will find comfort in new places and people. it just seems sad in a way.
everytime you begin to accept a new sort of normalcy in your life, it shows that the part of your life before~ with old comforts and different normalcies~ is over. a part of your life is over and you can never get it back or relive it.
in less than two years, when i go "home" i wont be coming back to this house. when i hear footsteps, they wont be my mothers. when i breathe in the summer air it wont ever smell exactly the same as it did in my house.
i know that life has just as many beginnings in it as it does endings, but i guess sometimes i wish there were a few less endings.