Home.

This morning I have a slightly scratchy throat.  

Thank you SO MUCH allergies.  

Lerve yer, ter.  

The girls had a friend sleep over last night.  Lots of giggles and stomps and squeals and noises that only little girls make when they increase in number. 

I'm getting ready to head over to the old house to wait for Mr. S. Steemer and pick up the last few things before our friends begin moving in this weekend.  

It's a weird feeling.  

Not sad, just weird.

The old house looks beautiful--they've picked some lovely colors for the walls.  

It smells and feels like home when I walk in, and then again it doesn't anymore.  

This house feels like our house, but doesn't quite feel like home yet.  

I'm homeless but not houseless.  

But, I'm learning more every day that my home is where my people are.

And my people are here.