As I sit in my parent's living room on this cold November evening, I have to reflect on how thankful I am to have a home. A roof over my head, food to eat, a warm bed to sleep in and people who love me.
It isn't just my parent's house either. I have a home with three other girls. My little apartment in Provo is a home to me. A temporary home, but a home none the less.
How blessed am I that I have two homes?
My mom told me when I was fifteen that a home isn't a building, it's where your family is. We were on the brink of moving from the only home I had ever known and I was upset. My memories were there! I had planned on all the most important events of my life taking place within it's walls. How could I leave it behind? I found out that she was right (as she usually is). When we moved to our temporary home in Provo and finally into our new house, I realized that I carry those memories with me. That's is why they are called memories--because they live on in your mind! This new house quickly became my home and it is because I was there with my family.
I'm thankful to be in a position where I have such a comfortable home. A home that is filled with laughter, tears (mostly mine), and memories.