They say home is where the heart is but after travelling the world sometimes it just feels really nice to get back to your own place, and your own bed.
It’s probably no surprise that I like to travel the world. For instance, I’ve been on Caribbean cruises, jaunted through some of Europe, and checked off several North American states and provinces over the past decade. But I also very much am reminded how I like returning to my home, sweet home.
I recently returned from Napa Valley, California. And, by recently, I do mean that I flew home last night. Since I had a bookstore shift today, my suitcase isn’t even fully unpacked. I had a lovely time enjoying wine and sunshine.
Still, there’s nothing quite like being in my own space. I like my cozy condo, with the shelves and shelves of books.
The hotel bed in Napa Valley was as comfortable as a cloud, but my bed at home has the soft sheets I picked out and the duvet I’ve had since I lived in Scotland. I like being able to choose from more clothes than what I could stuff in my suitcase without going over the baggage allowance. I missed my favourite chair and my good conditioner.
It may seem that I missed material things, but it’s more than that. I’ve curated the things in my home carefully. The things in it are things I’ve chosen, things I love. It’s my sanctum sanctorum. Even the stillness here is different from the stillness and quiet anywhere else.
I absolutely love traveling the world. I love seeing new places, meeting new people, trying new foods and activities. But I also love having somewhere that’s mine to which I can come back home. Because there really is no place quite like it.
Main photo by rawpixel on Unsplash.
