I’m 32 years old, and it took me a long time realize that I always carried home inside of me. I tried to create homes in others, only to find myself dismantling it-brick by brick-to move on for my own safety. Why did I move from the homes I settled in? I realized, perhaps not quickly enough, that I had given up my power and hanged my hopes erroneously in others waiting for them to change. I waited and years passed by and it dawned on me that I was the one that had the only power to change things. I walked away from homes I built. Where I forced myself to feel comfortable but never felt so.
I don’t think I have the energy for that anymore. Nor do I have the time. I am honoring the fact that I will grow my garden in my own terms, and listen to myself when I hear the quiet current inside of me letting me know that I’ve created a home to my satisfaction.