Watched a bit of The Wizard of Oz tonight. Have only seen it nearly a hundred times - give or take another hundred times for kicks. Got me to thinking..
Just what is it about "home" that makes it so special? Is it the floors, the walls, the furniture, the wallpaper, the paint? Is it the familiarity? The memories?
We're real busy settling into our new digs - new being the operative word. Brought along some of our old stuff. Only some. Most of it was too ______ (big, small, run down, etc.) I held onto what I could. Deep inside I wondered if dragging that bedroom lamp along might make the new house feel a little more like the former.
It doesn't.
Truth is, when you relocate you start anew. New floors, walls, furniture, wallpaper and paint. It's unfamiliar. The memories have yet to come. I suppose time will be happy to oblige. Time - that dastardly double-edged sword. When you need it to hurry by - it stubbornly lags. When you cling to each passing hour like fresh plastic wrap, it dons wings and travels at the speed of sound.
The days will come and go. New doors will open and let us in and out as we go about our lives coming and going from somewhere over the rainbow. Not Oz. There aren't any munchkins here (or should I say "little people") or Wicked Witches of the West (although I have been a might fussy lately.) Its the new Kansas.
We'll be alright. I know. Home is where the heart is. The family is in tact. And we've got our version of Toto, here, too. Still, The ole Wiz himself said it best:
“Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.”
Just what is it about "home" that makes it so special? Is it the floors, the walls, the furniture, the wallpaper, the paint? Is it the familiarity? The memories?
We're real busy settling into our new digs - new being the operative word. Brought along some of our old stuff. Only some. Most of it was too ______ (big, small, run down, etc.) I held onto what I could. Deep inside I wondered if dragging that bedroom lamp along might make the new house feel a little more like the former.
It doesn't.
Truth is, when you relocate you start anew. New floors, walls, furniture, wallpaper and paint. It's unfamiliar. The memories have yet to come. I suppose time will be happy to oblige. Time - that dastardly double-edged sword. When you need it to hurry by - it stubbornly lags. When you cling to each passing hour like fresh plastic wrap, it dons wings and travels at the speed of sound.
The days will come and go. New doors will open and let us in and out as we go about our lives coming and going from somewhere over the rainbow. Not Oz. There aren't any munchkins here (or should I say "little people") or Wicked Witches of the West (although I have been a might fussy lately.) Its the new Kansas.
We'll be alright. I know. Home is where the heart is. The family is in tact. And we've got our version of Toto, here, too. Still, The ole Wiz himself said it best:
“Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.”
I couldn't agree more.
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