Old habit's die hard. Or sometimes they don't die at all. Being recently married, I've realized many things I do are sheerly habit. The way I cook, clean, shop, and more. I have things I do in a particular way, for no particular reason other than I do.
Nate and I do not have a dog, the greatest reason being we live on the third floor (and Nate won't let me get one). But out of habit, I must always put the lid down on the toilet and make sure that I never leave anything a dog may want to eat on the floor or on a coffee table. I also eat food off my plate one item at a time, don't step on the cracks of the sidewalk, hit the snooze at least once before getting up, and run up all flights of stairs as quickly as possible when I encounter them.
These are all what I call habitats. Habits formed at home. We pick them up from our childhood homes, the schools we went to, the places we've been, and ultimately it boils down to the people surrounding us. Home is such an interesting concept when you think about it as living. Most people don't become sentimental over a physical house, they feel attached to it because of the people who lived inside it or near it. According to Webster's, one definition of home is 'where something flourishes'.
Nate is home to me. The Spirit is home to me. My family. My friends. They've all made me who I am. Even some people who have caused me pain, they still feel like home because, if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have learned some lessons. I wouldn't have formed those habits to take me away from those people or situations.
Today I am grateful for my habitats. For the people and places that have formed me into who I am because of habits they have left me with.