Casa.

I sometimes wonder when an apartment or house stop being just a place and become a home. When you live all your life somewhere, you don't have a choice: it's your home because it's where you come back to every day and where you sleep. Later in life it becomes harder to tell where (space-wise) you feel at home. Is it a place you can look like crap in, both physically and mentally, and be ok with it or is it a place where everything is to your liking? Or is it something else?

I remember that when we first moved into this apartment in Kansas City it did not feel like home at all. Maybe it had to with mostly bare walls or furniture I did not pick myself, but it was what it was: a nice apartment with everything you need. Over time things accumulated, posters and other things got up on the walls and even though now it's not my dream home, I warmed up to it. Maybe it's all the memories this place houses or maybe even the tree outside that had all kinds of visitors over the years. I know that one thing I'll surely miss when I move is that tree, the woodpecker, the squirrel with a dark nose, even an occasional raccoon. I've been reminded of Allie from the Wizard of Oz since I moved to Kansas City from Russia. It's weird but I'm kind of jealous of how Allie. She got to keep her house when lifted off the ground, travelled and than safely landed while coming to an astounding realization that "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore. I think if Genie granted me that wish, I'd take the apartment and the tree and move it far far away from stormy, sandy Kansas.

I decided to post some pictures I took this winter before Christmas just so I always have a reminder.