A childhood with more boxes packed than a childhood should need, or a family that never quite matched the street it lived on, the one house on the block where the rules ran differently. You were born with Uranus in your fourth house, the house of roots and the inner home, the ancestral pulse under the floorboards, so the ground you came up from was wired a little loose. When people talk about home as if everyone means the same warm, fixed thing, some part of you does not recognize the picture. That can leave a low hum of restlessness, a sense of never being fully landed because nothing about where you started was standard. But the loose ground is also yours to rebuild. Make a space that owes nothing to a magazine spread and everything to the inside of your own head: odd objects, a layout that makes sense only to you, a kitchen that runs on your hours. Honor the lineage that refused to conform instead of apologizing for it. Roots are allowed to grow in a strange shape and still hold you up.