They told me “home is where the heart is.”
But maybe they were wrong.
Maybe home holds its own heart, mind, body.
Maybe it’s walking amongst the crowed, waiting to house anyone who comes looking for a place to say.
Some are merely a bed and breakfast, while others are mansions full of luxuries unseen to most.
Some are just homes.
Three bedroom houses with a spacious backyard and enough room for a swing set.
Others have large porches for evening lemonade and trampolines for star gazing.
Everyone can find a home.
They see them pass and watch couples move in, each one an apartment, but building their dream house together.
We search until we find the perfect fit.
From broken down homes to abandoned buildings.
Two story homes to cabins.
Home isn’t wood trapping us inside,
But a safe haven we’ve found inside the arms over an individual.