It is such a wonderful thing to arrive home. It doesn't matter that it is only a rented cubbyhole, nearly identical to the rows of cubbyholes around it. It doesn't belong to me, and when I'm done with it, someone else will call it home. But right now, that little space is reserved for me. I can count on it being there, looking as I left it, welcoming me at the end of a long and busy day. It's a safe haven. I can hide out there, if I feel I need to. Some days, it's nice to know I have that option.
If it were suddenly lost or taken, by a tornado or a bank, it would feel like the ground disappearing from beneath my feet. It sometimes seems like a luxury, but always feels like a necessity. It's amazing how having a place of one's own can be a grounding oasis, a source of strength, safety, and stability.