Home

Home is wearing yoga pants, and crocs (not the cute kind) and socks, warm thick socks, usually in bright unbearable colors. Home is where you relax into an over stuffed couch wrapped in the blanket your Nana crocheted for you when you were six. Home is where you secretly watch bad tv, and eat white chocolate covered Oreos. Home is a place that holds all the little things you have loved along the way. The memories of the past, and the hopes of the future, mixed with the laughter (and sometimes yelling) of the present. Home is the one place you can be yourself, where you can let go of the opinions of the world and breath into a place of complete acceptance.

 This is selfish, but I can't help but think of my husband, so far away in a small room with six other guys. a cubical of home and none of the privacy. I am grateful to him and all the others serving our country. Those willing to leave the places where they are loved best of all, so the rest of us can cuddle up on cold nights, and be humbled by what we have.