Home… to me, it is my nest, my cave, my comfort zone for heart and soul, my safe haven. Home is also the place where I design my environment to reflect my personality, turning my surroundings into an extension of myself and making them part of me visually as well as ideologically. Home is where I come back to after an outing, and it awaits me with my worn slippers, my comfy recliner and my happy pets. Home is where I know every nook and cranny, every creak and groan, every smell and every patch of light and shadow. My home is my castle… I have the right to make it almost inaccessible to unwelcome intruders and welcoming to those I love and respect. It is my retreat from the world, the showcase for my treasures, and the stronghold of my values. Home… it is my second skin, my soil in which I am rooted, the roof over my head and the blanket for my soul.
Sometimes I wonder how a professionally decorated house or apartment can be a real home to the people who live in it. To me, it seems as if that was the same as wearing a stranger’s clothes or somebody else’s prescription glasses. Sure, it may serve the basic purpose and it may look better than if you used your own things and ideas, but it’s just not you. Isn’t hiring somebody to create your living space, your home, a lot like having the secretary choose your friend’s birthday present flowers and put a birthday card in front of you to sign while making your dinner reservations?
