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The Meaning of Home

When I closed on my first apartment the first thing I did was drive over to my new empty (and tiny!) place with a bottle of wine and laid on the floor, by myself, to take it all in.


I was finally adult enough to have my own place. MY OWN PLACE! It was a wonderful feeling. After downing the bottle, I fell asleep on the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

I spent countless hours dreaming of how I would decorate (when I had the money), what I wanted to fix up. I bought plants, accessories, art, and filled it with all of the things that I love.

That was quite a few homes ago. But the feeling of walking into the place that you (now own) for the first time – for me at least – is always of joy. I did a happy dance with my broom when I moved into my current condo, in an architecturally significant building on Brickell Avenue in Miami, overlooking Biscayne Bay. I am so blessed to be able to take my morning coffee watching some really amazing sunrises. It never gets old.

I spent countless hours dreaming of how I would decorate (when I had the money), what I wanted to fix up. I bought plants, accessories, art, and filled it with all of the things that I love.


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