Besides a 9 month stint, I’ve never lived alone. Now, at almost 52, and after two years floating between friend’s homes to family’s homes after my divorce, I will finally live on my own! I found a home! I thought this moment would never come, and although I’m a bit anxious, I’m excited at the prospect of starting over.

I’m not only starting over in a new home but also, in a new city, and a new job. But my home is the one thing that will change me, and help me grow and enjoy life starting from scratch. I’m bringing nothing from my former life, but my clothes, my books, and some pictures. My friends gave me two wonderful sofas a few months ago for this new journey. So, I’m off to a good start.

I believe this home will set the stage for my new chapter, one I will own completely. My home will reflect me, a warm clutter-free space, where I hope to enjoy alone time, and where friends and family can come visit freely.

“Home.” I keep repeating this word to believe it’s actually happening, and to reassure myself that I’ll soon have somewhere to go, hide from the world, chill and find out who I am without another person living with me.