Updated: Dec 10, 2019
Do you ever think about the energy of a space? How it's not only the people who inhabit a room or a home that bring it life? Take, for instance, my current writing view. I'm sitting in my living room and to my right is the front door. On the back of the door is a coat hanger with a collection of my boyfriend and I's jackets, hats, umbrellas, and bags. On the floor to the left of the door is my boyfriend's brown, leather shoes. Underneath them is a small, reversible area rug.
To some, these are just things - garments we use to decorate ourselves or items we grab when running out the door to shield from falling rain. In essence, they are just things. But when looking at them now, I see the Yankee hat my boyfriend often wears on Sunday mornings when we make our iced coffee run up the block to our local bakery. I see the black and white spotted umbrella that I was excited to purchase, but later that day managed to spill red wine on. There's the beach hat I wear that Terrence tells me I look like an aviator in and the black jacket he throws on when going golfing in the fall.
It sounds simple in some ways - a person's personal belongings naturally have more meaning and memories embedded within them, but sometimes it's looking at these things in such a way that remind me of the smaller details of my life - the gold lining threaded throughout my every day existence. These items have made our first apartment a cozy home; each one imbued with the characteristics and habits of a person.
I think about when we first moved into this apartment, how barren and open it was. How each week another frame hung, another plant housed, a new patterned pillow thrown on the couch, more flowers for the kitchen table, and an assortment of wine for the bar cart we were so thrilled about purchasing. This space was stripped and naked of its former memories when we first got the keys; now, the walls are brimming with relics from trips overseas, local artisan's paintings, garage sale treasures, friend's drawings, a mirror we argued over, and recollections of time spent digging deeper into the depths of each other.
A space can just be a space. A room can just be a room. An apartment can just be an apartment. A house can just be a house. It's how you choose to see your every day surroundings that make your life your own home.
It's this slight shift; this slender alteration of viewpoints, that makes the space I rise and sleep in the harvest to my crop, the plants to my seeds, the love to my being, the blessings that remind me how grateful I am to have this one precious life.