Home.

Right now, the most frequently used word in Esther's vocabulary is "Home." Home is clearly a very meaningful concept for her. On days when I am working, she and her daddy call me at work and she mournfully says "Mama, home" to my picture on his cellphone screen. On days when I am home, I go to her when she wakes up in the morning; her face lights up like the sun and she says "Mama, home!" as she squeezes me tight and smothers me with kissies. In the backyard, she'll look up from splashing in her pool to shout "home! home!" When we are out and about, she will pause in whatever she's doing to look up at me or my husband, a question on her face, and say "home?" And we rush to reassure her that once we are done with the day's agenda, we will indeed be going back home, where Shadow and her pool and her Pooh and her teddy are waiting for her. Yesterday we had my girlfriend G. and her four-year-old daughter L. and one-year-old son J.J. over for a playdate - Esther was ecstatic, running around yelling "L., home!" and "J.J., home!" Because, of course, in her mind "home" is *our* home, and she doesn't yet realize that other people call other houses home.

Our home is not in the nicest neighborhood, but there are still trees and parks and a few friendly neighbors. The house itself is nice; solid and comfortable with a big yard and heat in the winter and A/C in the summer. Everything we need is right there. It's got just enough room for all of us, as long as we keep on top of the incoming tide of accumulated crap. And most importantly of all, it is secure. We can afford to live in our home indefinitely. As long as I continue to do a good job at work, the money to keep our home will keep flowing. Our lights will continue to shine, and we will stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and there will always be food on our table. These are very important things that go into turning our house into the "home" that Esther loves and that makes her feel so safe.

That is a big part of my job as her mama, as I see it. To provide her with a home that is safe and secure and full of love. To keep her warm and fed and clothed inside that home. To provide her with a place of refuge as she gets older and ventures out into a world that neither she nor I can control. To protect her from ever needing to worry about the roof over her head or the food on the table. To turn our house into the physical manifestation of my love for her.

Esther, home. Daddy, home. Shadow, home. Mama, home. Our home.