I wrote this as the girls were at an intensive a few weeks ago and it didn't publish. It still holds true, despite the passage of time, so I'm hitting post.
I watch them walk into the building, 800 miles from their beds and books. No hesitation, no stutter in their steps. Confident. It’s what I dream for them, this peace. Completely assurance in who they are as people.
At home she’s different. Quiet, not in a crowd. Here, she shines. From one set of arms to another she goes, swallowed in embrace after embrace. I see her whole heart in her eyes, and mine teeters between bursting and breaking. Here, she is home.
Never out shadowed, my little immediately finds a set of arms and dives into them. When she’s hugged she comes straight off of the floor. Home.
The warmth of this place isn’t limited to the girls. I feel it all around me. Wishing we had this in more spots but grateful for it’s presence here. I’m then kissed and hugged and all filled up too.
A few years ago Christmas was in a cozy condo in snowy Iowa. Today it’s here in these studio spaces in MA. As the girls have grown we’ve learned that home isn’t about where you are, it’s who you’re with.
We’ve had adventures galore in the last twelve months, but the concept that home is wherever we find those we love and in the pursuit of our joy? That lesson we’ll hold close for this lifetime.