My family and I just moved from Atlanta, Georgia to the North Carolina Coast.

As with any big move with children, my husband and I spent a great deal of time researching good school districts and visiting homes trying to find the “right one”.

We looked at house after house and agonized over the decision.  We weren’t just making the choice for ourselves, but for our three girls as well.

We finally settled on the one that felt like “home” to us.

Before we moved our family, I spent a few days here on my own – unpacking and washing bed linens and getting the bedrooms ready for the girls before they arrived.

In those few days I spent here alone, the house was so extremely quiet.  Nothing was familiar, and everything was new.  New sounds, new smells, new surroundings.

And that’s when it dawned on me.  Even though the house was filled with our worldly possessions, it would never be home until it was filled with my people.

And when my girls arrived, oh how I welcomed the pitter patter of feet running down the hall.  I craved the shouting and crying and yelling and laughter.

I’m not quite sure how I forgot that regardless of the house we chose, it is our family that makes it home.