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I was invited to a friends home for dinner the other night.

There were four of us. A girls night.

This invitation came from a newish friend and I had never seen where she lived.

When I walked across her threshold I immediately got quiet.

I felt safe, welcome and an honored guest.

Why was that? She lives in a trailer (in the toniest hollow in Santa Fe).

It is an unpretentious home with all the qualities of fine living.

These are the things I noticed that made it feel like HOME to me:

There was a big, red leather chair from Design Warehouse set at the perfect distance from a roaring and REAL fire. The lighting was soft and diffuse and didn’t overpower the humans. There were intriguing and very personal treasures everywhere I looked and I wanted to LOOK. Kindof like I entered a treasure hunt and I’d never have enough time to assuage my curiosity. There was stuff COOKING! Not just ‘stuff’ (these are the descriptions single girls who don’t cook so much tend to use when offered the miracle of a home-cooked meal..pathetic, really). We had a giant, claret-colored and heart-shaped homegrown tomato with fresh goat cheese and olive oil the tenderest green color which almost made me weep from how smooth it was..with chopped fresh basil. Dinner was served by my adorable apron-wearing friend on fabulous plates with satisfying flatware. One candle in the center of the small round table. She cooked a hotdog for Olivia who was invited too..

The conversation was funny. And honest. And interesting. And loving. And real.

I was so happy there, with my friends and my dog and the fire and the recognition that all I needed was right there in that moment and I need not worry myself over any thing.

Safety. Beauty. Intrigue. Companions (sometimes). Pleasures for each of the senses. Simplicity. Nurturance. Nature. Sanctuary. Authenticity. These are some of the things that make home for me.

I’m building mine from the inside out.

Still under construction…

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