When I was a child, home meant Mom and Dad and my brother and sisters. It was where we ate supper together after a day at school. It was a comfortable place where we were loved and cared for. Later, it was where family came together for holiday dinners and Christmas time to open presents together. As an adult, my home has become my sanctuary. It is the place I can go to escape from the stress of the day. It is where I am safe from the outside world. I can do what I want, when I want. It is where I go to spend time with my husband of 41 years. It is where things are comfortable and close at hand. I know where everything is and there are no surprises. It is where I can watch tv, or read, or blog. I am surrounded by my belongings and it represents my security blanket. It is where I belong. It is my place. It is my home.
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