I've become very interested in things that earn their place in my home and my heart. Not things that impress me at first glance, but things that sneak in silently and settle into the in-between moments.
A beautiful room feels like a hug to me, but not the kind of room that is perfect. The kind with soul. Books that have been dog eared, furniture that has softened with age, a bowl with a chip in it, overgrown plants, a chair that's been repaired rather than replaced. Things that have been used, mended, broken and kept.
Lately, I've noticed the things we treasure become part of our lives gradually until we can’t remember our days without them.
I'm talking about the chair you always want to sit on. The mug you reach for every morning because things don't taste quite the same from any other. The unfolded blanket. The conversation that stayed with you. The recipe you know by heart because you've perfected it over time & the sweater that lives on the messy chair because you're always reaching for it.
Maybe what I love isn't beauty at all, its evidence of a life being lived. The signs that something was loved enough to be kept.
I think this is true of people, homes and places too. There is something beautiful about earning your place slowly. Then one day you realise you reach for them without thought.
Again and again and again.
- Paula
