Home isn't a place; it's a feeling. That said, my home holds so many memories for me. Sometimes I fleetingly feel my parents' presence, as if they were still alive. It's such a weird feeling...
In the months after they died, it was hard to be in the house without them. It still is. It was their house and it still feels like they should be here. Every corner is filled with their life. I love my house. How could I not?
Hope you have a wonderful weekend! xx
