What exactly is the measure of “home?”  I’ve been pondering this question quite a bit these past few weeks. Is “home” a feeling or a place? I’m starting to believe it’s the former.

I’ve lived in my current house for nearly 10 years. I fell in love with the place for so many reasons: The charming neighborhood, the original floors, the French doors, the fireplace…even the dated circa 1980’s red floral wallpaper that graces my entryway. I remember the first thing I said when I walked in the front door of this house: “Wow.”

I was smitten from the very beginning.  I saw past the old wallpaper, the radiators, the dated color schemes….and I saw what could be. A warm and charming home for me, my daughter and my now ex-husband. Sometimes I wonder if “seeing beyond the facade” is a blessing or a curse.

There is irony…or maybe better put…some twisted poetry in the parallels surrounding my romantic inclination to see past the flaws in both my house and my marriage. I’m an optimist. I tend to believe that things will get better. Things did get better with the house. It took a whole lot of work, a lot of sweat, some tears…and some cash. As for the marriage…well, it turns out the flaws could only be masked for so long. Stormy weather took its toll on that polished facade, and the hidden, ugly truths were inevitably revealed. No matter how hard you might try, some things just can’t be fixed.

The house now looks nothing like it did when I first bought it. The kitchen has been remodeled, rooms have been painted, wallpaper has been removed and the basement has been updated and finished.  But even though the place looks fresh, corners have a way of revealing memories that are much better forgotten. In truth, this house has become an albatross.

I honestly didn’t realize how much this house was holding me back from completely moving forward until I started looking for a new place to live. I became lighter as I imagined Abby and me starting again in a place that contains no memories from our past. A new start. Is there anything more cleansing in life?

I am beginning to measure the years spent in this house differently now. I see the polished trim, the open floor plan, the 1920’s charm that seems to just radiate from the place, and it gives me pride. I bought this house. And in it I became…me.

I see my own evolution and all I’ve accomplished while living here. Within these nearly 90-year old walls, I learned how to fall down hard, and pick myself back up again. I learned how to let go of opinions that simply don’t matter. I learned what it means to be a great mom. In this house I inevitably discovered what matters most to me, and I learned how to let go of the rest. I found my strength.

When I walk from room to room I no longer see or feel the weight of dreams never realized. Instead, I once more see what can be.  I see my daughter and me closing this chapter, and moving on to a better, more adventurous one. I feel lighter….and more confident than I’ve ever felt in my life. I know I’ve got this.

The simple truth I learned through all I’ve experienced while living in this house is this: the past does not define us. Each day is new…and brings with it the opportunity to start again.  And we all deserve new beginnings. So Abby and I will enjoy what will most likely be our last few months in this place. And soon…a new family will move in and call this place home. It brings me joy to imagine a loving family settling into this charming house; hanging pictures on the wall, hosting holiday dinners in this amazing kitchen, and creating their own chapters, while my old ones collect dust, settling somewhere within the corners.

As for Abby and me…well, even though our new place is not yet secured, I think we both have learned that home has little to do with walls and floors. As long as we have each other, we’ll always be home.

“Home isn’t where you’re from, it’s where you find light when all grows dark.” — Pierce Brown, Golden Son