Think of your childhood home. What comes to mind? Are they precious thoughts, or things you'd rather forget?
I had the fortune? the issue? the fact of growing up in the same house for the first 19 years of my life. When I was 19 my parents made the huge decision to upend our family and move us from the safety of the only home I'd ever know.
All the way down to the next block.
You would have thought it was to a different country at the least by the way my heart broke.
But that first house, OH, do I have some serious memories of growing up there.
I took 3 minutes today and jotted down all the things I think of when I think Home. Here they are:
- Sitting by my mom while she sewed, playing with the bobbins and thread, the sound of that old machine thrumming
- The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies (and being able to eat as many as I wanted! What was up with that, Mom? My kids wish I was more like Grandma....)
- At the kitchen table next to my Dad doing algebra. He loved it, I hated it, but I finally got it. Then I loved it.
- Mom humming through the whole day.
- Racing in from the bus to watch the Cosby show reruns after school.
- Blue shag carpet.
- Our "huge" backyard; seemed endless and wonderful.
- Being sent to the garden to collect tomatoes and cucumbers for an evening salad.
- My brother Mark teaching me how to take a salt shaker to the garden and eating cukes warm and salty, straight off the vine.
- Talking to friends on our orange phone with the impossibly long cord stretched across our kitchen all the way into the pantry. Door shut.
- The overall feeling of love and safety inside those walls.
Most of all, I hope they feel what I felt the most: love and safety.
What is the sense of Home to you? What would be on your list?
This is day 17 (whew, that's a lot of days of posting, even if I have skipped a few!) of a 31 day series on Being Home. Read from the beginning here. And read what others are being inspired about this month.