Comes with Attachments

I have a very good and wise female friend -- a retired teacher -- who never fails to teach me things.  Gloria is calm and level-headed and pragmatic.  Even in the face of stress and sorrow, I have never seen her flustered.  Gloria's a lifelong learner who continues to share her knowledge in and out of the classroom. So, it shouldn't surprise me that I would receive yet another valuable lesson recently from my teacher friend.  Gloria and her husband have a grown family and have decided to downsize.  They designed and built their home when they had a bustling house of sons.  After the boys moved out, they've graciously invited others to stay with them when they've been in need.  Their home has been the place for family celebrations and gatherings with friends.  It was there where Larry and I ate dinner the night following my mom's memorial service.  Yet, with all of the happy memories (and likely some sad ones, too), Gloria and her husband are ready to part with their home.  And Gloria is being practical about it.  She said that she doesn't get attached to the places where she lives.  I, on the other hand, cry when I trade in my car and I've wept horribly when leaving even a place I simply rented.  Although I'm not a materialistic person, I seem to grow attached to silly things like 10-year-old cars and my residences.  Gloria is teaching me an important lesson that home is not a place but, rather, what we do with where we live, how we welcome others into it, and how we make memories there.  Thanks, Gloria.