On the notion of home

On Friday night, we at dumplings and ice cream. We took the ferry across the harbour, and I saw Luna Park up close for the first time, and we talked about how we'll spend summer nights there.

We drove home and it was late and the car was quiet, and Stephen said that soon we can go to the drive-in theatre. The back of our new-to-us car will be weighed down with blankets and the front filled with food.

On Saturday we registered for our wedding. I was discouraged by the prices, and Stephen pulled me close and reminded me that this should be fun, that people want to bless us, that it's okay to receive. We tried our first ever cronuts and shared an umbrella and laughed about how Stephen loves the rain and I am aching for some sunshine.

I think often about the notion of home, of what makes one. I used to think home was just a place or a time, but now I see that even though those things are important, home is more about the people in that place and the people with whom the time is spent.

There's something to be said for the homes we make that thrive off of spontaneity and John Hughes-esque romance. But right now, I'm happy to speak on behalf of my in-progress home, in all its glorious reality. There's something to be said for that, too. That's the home I'm choosing.

My neighborhood is the family I'm gaining, the community we're building, and all the adventures we're having. And if home is a person, mine is certainly Stephen.