Yesterday, I had the opportunity to be inside a very nice house -- notice, I didn't say home. It was decorated impeccably and there was neither a speck of dust nor an imperfection to be found. It was beautiful...but very, very cold.
I don't yet own a house (am happy renting for now), but I do take pride in my home. I love to decorate and think I actually have a knack for it...albeit in a different manner than a professional iterior designer. My home is decorated with items that are uniquely me -- vintage items from the 50s and 60s, a red pleather chair, "ugly" lamps, tons of photos, and other random items that I happen to love. It's by no means a showplace, but I love it.
When I think about my house and it's quirkiness, I sometimes wonder if I should grow up and decorate in a more staid manner...focus less on my unique items and more on what looks good to society. Then, I realize that it's me...my house is very definitively me. It's fun and interesting and unlike anything (or anyone) else. I love that my friends can walk into my home and be comfortable. I love that people don't need to worry if they get dust on the floor when they walk in. I love that I have a home, rather than just a house.
Sure, I could change my style and have a more beautiful (but safe and boring) house...but then, to me, I'm afraid that it wouldn't be a home. It just wouldn't be me.
So, for now, I'm keeping things as they are and enjoying my home. While I may not have the absolute nicest things of anyone, they're mine and I love them and they make my house my home. When you walk into my house, there's a good chance that you'll find an extra pair or two of shoes by the door and some dog hair on the couch -- but that's my normal...it's my home.
After all, one of the best compliments I ever received was from a friend who hadn't been to my house in several years. When he walked in, he told me, "Meg, your house always feels the same -- it's just so comfortable and truly feels like a home." Indeed!
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