There's no place like home

I am not a nester.

I actually don't know what that word means. I'm not even sure if it is a word.

In any case, I am not used to having a home of my own. Granted, I live in an apartment--but its mine! Growing up, I lived with my grandparents. After that, I went to college--moved from dorm to dorm. Right after that, I moved in a with a friend of mine. And after that, I spent three years living with a different friend.

This is the first time I have a space that I call my own. It's been about nine months and I still have decorated.

First of all, I don't have a lot to decorate with. Secondly, I don't even know where to start.

Decorating is a foreign concept to me. It never used to bother me until last night when I wanted to decorate for Christmas.

I pulled the few things I have that may be considered festive. As I stood back at my paltry offering, all I kept thinking about was...

...I want more.

I don't have the time, money or the talent to make my home feel like Christmas. But for the ten minutes it took me to put out a few stockings and change a couple towels and a tablecloth, and added more candles on the fireplace mantle, I got bit by the bug for more.

Although I am not likely to invest any more time or money on it in the near future, I realized how excited I was to finally have a place to start making my own. The foreign concept of home is becoming a little more familiar.

It took me 27 years to get there, but its about time that my sanctuary isn't found hiding in a coffee shop.