I was listening to Billy Joel’s “You’re My Home” (awesome song), which led to reflecting on the concept of home. As a military family, home was always wherever we were living at the time, basically where the four of us were together. When we’d move to a new place, we’d set up the kids’ rooms first, wanting them to establish their own space as soon as possible, so they could imagine their lives there. While we moved often, creating a place that felt warm—a safe and enjoyable place—ranked high when we set up the rest of the house as well. Family pictures hung throughout the house and, as one mover characterized, our “knickknacks” told a story of what brought us comfort and what we loved. Having a home other people felt comfortable in was equally important.
My sister’s house reminded me of this last week. When I walked in, I immediately felt at ease—even the smell of her house was calming…and, no, it wasn’t a candle. We all know the homes we go to that bring out this feeling, like our parents’ home. My Mom’s home evokes this primal contentedness. We moved there when I was 8 years old. Got our brand-new bikes at Christmas; Santa had them hiding in the shed. Litters upon litters of kittens were born there, which explains my love of animals (we had dogs, rabbits, chickens, fish, hamsters, and even a turkey). The rooms changed depending on how many of us were still at home; today’s dining room was a bedroom at one time. My Dad passed away at the house—I still envision him walking around the yard, headed towards a tool in the garage or shed. Hanging out there or staying there when we lived away parallels stepping into your favorite pair of flannel pajamas, with a cup of tea, of course.
As I look around our house now, I’m not as comfortable as usual because we’re selling our home, so most photos and interesting elements are packed away to make room for the imaginations of the buyers. The house looks pretty, but it could be anyone’s, as far as I’m concerned. Our favorite picture of the kids is nowhere to be found. My Auntie Annie’s figurines are packed away. My dresser stands completely bare, a considerable anomaly…well, except for my statue of Mary—no one puts baby in a corner! In other words, what makes the house our home has been systematically tucked away. Being alone in the house while we wait for the sale only makes it worse.
This pandemic has “forced” all of us into a semi-permanent habitation. While we’ve had time to improve or clean out some things in our dwelling places, I hope we’ve held onto and strengthened the parts that make them our sources of well-being. While Joel delivers a pertinent point with each other being our home, it’s nice to come back to a snug one.
Quote of the Day:
“The homemaker has the ultimate career. All other careers exist for one purpose only…to support the ultimate career.” C.S. LEWIS
Designs on Life 