Where is my home?
The house is a mess of half packed boxes; books disgorging themselves in a stream across the bedroom floor and a lonely pillow has been removed from a box by a cat in need of a comfy snooze in the pool of sunlight on the floor.
I can't wait for this move to be over and to get rid of the boxes that dominate the landscape of home.
I want my home back. We still live here in this house, but mentally we have moved. This is now just a house, filled with boxes and furniture, and stuff to be moved. We want our home again.
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