There's No Place Like Home. *click click* There's No Place Like Home. *click click*

Anyone that has ever lived in a home where there was unrest, violence, sadness or tension knows the feeling that type of environment can create in one's spirit. Whether you grew up in that kind of home or found yourself in that kind of home as an adult, it's all the same. You are robbed of comfort, joy and peaceful rest in the very place that is supposed to be a sanctuary for you against the chaos that awaits you in the world when you step outside your door. I grew up in a house with that type of energy and remember distinctly saying to myself time and time again, "Man, dang (a favorite word of all hood babies as the perfect substitute for "damn")!  I can't wait 'til I grow up! My house ain't gonna be like this! Nuh uh!" I would spend hours just fantasizing about living alone, being able to care for myself without depending on n'ary other soul, you know?  All I wanted was to feel happy and at peace in a home I created and knew I would protect like my life depended on it.  When I think about it, my good healthy life actually did depend on it.

For the most part, I kept that promise to myself as I grew into my womanhood.  I chose female college roommates carefully and often tucked away many a hurt feeling to keep the peace in the place I called home.  The roommate thing got old for me by the time my college studies were coming to an end and I was desperate for space to grow more independent.  That fantasy of creating a home for myself I thought of often as a child?  Oh, it nagged at me until I was finally able to afford to live on my own.  You would have thought I was moving on up to the east side like Weezie and them, I was so excited for that little studio apartment just for me!  Every single aspect of my home reflected what I needed in the place I would lay my head for several years.  It was immaculate.  It was organized.  It was bright with sunshine streaming through the windows.  And it smelled like a buttery sweet potato pie baking in the oven loaded with vanilla and cinnamon and allspice!  From that cute little affordable studio apartment, to a small one bedroom apartment right down the street and on to an overpriced two bedroom condo I purchased, I have mastered the art of creating a home for myself.  I never imagined the possibility of ever sharing my home again, certainly not with a man I loved and a man that loved me.  I mean, he would have his spot and I would have my place.  Right?  And then love fell upon me... 

The decision to share my home with the man I have chosen to love happened organically (the way he describes our love affair, which I have come to agree with) and without any belaboring.  My anxious nature would not let me be punch drunk crazy in love though, so I put in some work preparing myself mentally for how the move would impact me.  I spent some time in the chair creating plans to manage any difficult feelings I would face living with a man and his adolescent baby girl after having lived alone for nearly 20 years.  Baby, I had no clue how to live with a man!  I was burdened with thinking over and over how I would manage to create a home for a man having not had any example of how a woman meets that need.  I mean, I knew there was more to it besides making room in my closet for his clothes and shoes and shrinking all my girlie stuff to offer space for his manly stuff in the bathroom cabinets and drawers.  Trust and believe that was no easy task, either!  Right when my nerves started to get the best of me, I remembered something Oprah "had said": "Your home should rise up to greet you..."  That was it!  I wanted our home to rise up and greet the man I had chosen to love.  I wanted to nurture a home that would greet that man with acceptance, love, comfort, support and as little judgement as possible.  

There's no place like home...

The move in date came and our lives were officially blended.  We went about this new thing without missing a beat and I figured I was doing a decent job with the creating the home thing.  He didn't complain.  I wasn't miserable trying to meet his needs.  We were good, right?  No way to know that though other than to ask with the periodic check in's we have.  So, one night while we sat outside on our little balcony enjoying the calm night air we just talked. We talked about our journey together so far...the good and bad...and shared what it is about our relationship that makes the other thrive. I told him for me it is the way he settles me. He's consistent. Easy going. And stable. Not very much unnerves this man and if it does, he manages that uneasy feeling well.  With this man I discovered I desperately need that feeling in a lover because I can worry and be anxious through life's twists and turns.  Just that simple offering from a partner improved the quality of my life beyond my imagination.

When it was his turn to share, what he said took me completely by surprise with how simple it was.  I was listening while gazing out at the night sky but looked up to listen more intently when I heard him say, "I like coming home."  That's what makes him thrive in relationship with me?  He said he likes coming home! *swoon*  He likes coming home to the space I fight the insecure and suspicious parts of myself to nurture and maintain for him.  He likes coming home to the peaceful, loving, supportive environment I do my work to have rise up and greet him when he walks through our door every single day.  He likes coming home to the pictures of his family, my family and our family that adorn the shelves, bookcase, nightstands and walls in gold frames that rise up and greet us.  He likes coming home to the live green plants that drape across sturdy wood furniture throughout the home that rise up and greet us (that he doesn't bother to water, by the way but that's another blog).  He likes coming home to the sweet scent of vanilla scented wall plug-ins that waft through the rooms to rise up and greet us.   He likes coming home to the warm and rich color of the walls in every room that nurture a calming energy throughout the home and rises up to greet us.  He likes coming home to the neatly kept rooms with beds made every morning (my mother taught me that) that rise up to greet us when we stumble over our doorstep after a busy day earning our keep.  I create that!  Me...Faith Margaret. And I had no idea he needed and appreciated that. 

Mmmmkay, you might be thinking this is really not a big deal.  Women have made homes for their families since the beginning of time, yes?  But those women were not in my life and I never imagined myself being THAT kind of woman.  And that is what makes this thing remarkable!  Deep within my consciousness I know I want something different for myself.  Something better than what my mother clawed to get for herself but never managed despite her best efforts.  And I know the real work that must be done for me to have what I want rests firmly with me.  At my feet.  I want to share a home that is grounded in love, peace and respect with the man I love.  I want to share a home that wraps people coming to sit a spell with love and a comfort that is palpable.  The fact that I have not fumbled terribly in this organic experience of sharing a home with the man I love is nothing short of a miracle and his gratefulness inspires me to keep at it.  Our home rises up to greet us with all things good and dare I say, Oprah would be proud! 

Dorothy had it right, I guess. There's no place like home. *click click* There's no place like home. *click click*