at home

{My apologies if this shows up on your Reader multiple times. I've been having serious formatting issues today.}

When Chad and I were newly wed, we lived here:
Actually, we lived in the basement of here. The basement with the mine-shaft-like staircase, one window, a shower that restricted my 6'1" husband to a less-than-standing position, and just enough room for a full-sized bed (of which said husband's long legs dangled off). It was cozy, but it was home. Especially because in the upstairs portion of this little bungalow lived my grandparents.

Living with Grandma might not be every newlywed's idea of fun, but there is something to be said for random cookies or meals left at your door, a covered parking space, and next-to-nothing rent. Plus, I garnered great laundry and cooking tips from my homemaking-wise grandma, just when I started to care about that kind of thing.

Eight years ago, Grandma died suddenly, on Christmas Eve. Since that time, Grandpa has sold the house and lived in several locations. Although he's always had a place to lay his head, it seems to me that since Grandma left, he has been home-less; possessing a place, but devoid of 'home.'

A home is so much more than walls and a roof and a bed and a kitchen. A home is 'built' by the ones who live there, by the love they have, by the meals they share, by the memories they make. Grandma was the 'home' in Grandpa's life, and the 'home' for our entire extended family. Since she's been gone, we've all felt a little homeless (and homesick for her).

Just last week, Grandpa moved into my parents' basement apartment. Their set-up is a little different from the basement where Chad and I dwelt so long ago. There are many windows and lots of light, a full-sized shower, a queen-sized bed, closets with doors. But, like us, Grandpa's likely to find frequent meals or treats left for him, have help with laundry or cleaning, if he needs it, and, has a covered space to park his car. Although he'll never stop missing the home Grandma created for their family, I hope, living with his children, he finds a home: feeling the presence of others who share those walls and knowing the folks upstairs love him and want the best for him.

In loving memory of Grandma.