Home is...

Let me start off by saying that I had an AMAZING Labor Day weekend filled with so many good friends and even more good food. I probably shouldn't have eaten at all today, but I did. I'll fill you in on the weekend's goodies later, but first here is what happened today.

I was at my sister's house reading a magazine and one of the features was a collection of readers' opinions of what home means to them. Some were typical "home is the smell of my mom's perfume", some a little more interesting "home is where I can wear yellow yoga pants and a holey shirt and not worry about being ambushed by a makeover crew", and some were downright weird "home is the smell of my husbands neck right below his ear." However odd some people are the question got me thinking (though not too hard and honestly I would have never thought about it again if what home is to me hadn't smacked me in the face a few hours later.)

Let me back up a few years and explain. When I was younger my favorite ice cream flavor was vanilla, and I was not afraid to admit it. As I got older I fell into some traps, thinking that more is better and obsessing over my love of chocolate, I soon fell away from my classic flavor in favor of New York Super Fudge Chunk, Fudge Brownie, and other dare I say trendy flavors. I think I was a little afraid to miss something if I stuck with vanilla.

Today I apologize to vanilla. I am no longer afraid to admit that deep down you have always been my favorite. I don't need anyone to mix in chocolate chips or snickers bars or little pieces of bubble gum. All I need is vanilla, and that is home to me.
Thank you Haagen-Dazs Five for helping me remember what it feels like to be home.