These Walls

I'm not very used to writing posts on my phone but my laptop has been horridly loud and obnoxious these days, so honestly I'd rather be on my quiet phone, with Disney music playing softly in the background. I'm convinced that my bed is the comfiest coziest bed in the whole wide world. When I was a kid I watched Oliver and Company an embarrassing amount of times and one of my favorite parts was when Rodger made his bed up for the night. I thought it was magical how old, mismatched pillows were transformed into the softest looking bed imaginable. Now I look over and notice how I stack up pillows on my own bed, with blankets spread around recklessly, and I realize I'm still the five year old girl I was back then. I love snuggling on the couch and watching Little House on the Prairie, while eating pancakes. I love chocolate milk in the mornings and the sight of dusk through my bedroom window. I love by bookshelf with happy endings decorating it. I love the grandfather clock my family's had since I was a baby. I love the smell of fresh cut grass out in the yard, and the way the lamps look soft and warm when I come through the front door in the evening. When it gets down to it, I love being home. It has memories ingrained into it so deep, it would tell you stories that might make you cry, if houses could talk. It's what I compare all other comforts and happy places to. And just between you and me, there's no other place I'd rather be.