Home can mean many different things to different people. To me and probably most others, Home is where my loved ones are. It is where are able to kick back and be yourself. Where I relax in my pjs with a mug of tea and my tattiest furry slippers. Where I curl up on the sofa with a good book on the kindle or film. Where my 13 year old son rushes in to do a smash and raid on the fridge before running back out the house again to continue with whatever he was doing that was so important with his friends. Where my boyfriend sits with his laptop, browsing the latest techy stuff that he thinks he needs. Where I'm glad to get back to after a trying day at work, finally able to relax after a day of having to smile and be understanding and patient. but most of all, it is the place where I most feel safe and loved, surrounded by people who care how I am feeling.
So it is not surprising that my brave sister has decided that her Home is where she wants to spend the rest of her life, however long that may be. After having spent the last 4 weeks in hospital - the first week of which was spent in ICU connected to a variety of wires and machines - she knows that her Home is where she needs to be now. With her loved ones. Her husband. Her two young children. Her faithful chocolate labrador who never leaves her side. Her own familiar things around her. Her own comfortable bed. The feelings of security and love that will envelop her and ensure she has peace.
I may be 4000 miles away from my sister, unable to be physically included amongst the loved ones with her, but my heart is there with her. I am sending out my love across the Atlantic Ocean and further West to Arizona. I am thinking about her constantly. She is my first thought on waking in the morning and my last before closing my eyes in sleep at night.
I am happy my sister is Home.
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