There are many things that make a house a home. There is of course the furnishings, the knick knacks, and all the trappings of a house, but those are not what really make it a home for me. Stuff is nothing more than trappings.
For me one thing that really makes a house into a home is cooking a meal in it. Food is one of my love languages for certain, but the kitchen has always been the point in my home where life happened. Not a day of my life growing up passed without time spent as a family cooking.
There is a warmth that comes from a kitchen, and not just from the stove. It is the joy and community that is formed over making a meal. It is sharing your day over the chopping of vegetables, the stirring of sauces, and all the other things that go into making a meal. It may be just a southern thing, but life in a family happens in the kitchen.
The smell of good home cooked food filling the house is comforting and reassuring. It smells wonderful but it also smells of love and togetherness. It allows you to know that the house is not just inhabited. The house is lived in and loved in. It takes a lot of love to make good food after all.
Currently a pot of red beans, which the husbeast has been working on all night, is simmering on the stove and filling the house with its fragrant aroma. I don't eat beans, but the smell is so delightful that my mouth is watering. The delectable scent has filled the house upstairs and down and tonight we will drift off to sleep cradled in its embrace.
It is moments like this that I am able to just sit back and relax and feel content. It doesn't matter what furniture I have, or if I am unpacked or not, or if I feel settled in my surroundings. The smell of food cooked with love is enough to let me know that all is right in the world. It lets me know that there is someone in the house that cares enough to have made something so wonderful THere is warmth and there is love.
It is nice to know I am home.