Writing my poem Your Home was probably one of the most profound, yet most delightful things I could possibly write about. An exception would be when I write about the beautiful people in my life, but then again, it’s the people that make a home and the peacefulness it brings you.
Your home is a place where you can be you. Its surrounding walls are like a big hug. It is balance, refuge, and the truest warmth there is.
Your Home Illustration by Kimberly K. Taylor-Pestell
Our house is a sweet home. Not big… just right. It feels like it was made for us. Or did we make it that way? I think it’s a mix of deliberate placement of trees, flowers, furniture, art, and a natural unfolding of things over time. We’ve been there 20 years.
Some folks have more than one home. It’s often a place that takes you away from work and gives you rest and rejuvenation. A sanctuary of sorts. A vantage point where you can watch the sunrise over the mountains or the sea, and daydream.
Your home is like a diary. Memories and history fill the walls that aren’t really walls at all.
You may love your home with all your heart, but need more space. Maybe it’s time to let it go for a workshop, to travel the country in an Airstream, or to create comfort for your children or grandchildren.
Home is different things to many people. Some folks are nomadic gypsies at heart and can settle in anywhere. Others are more provincial. They want their pancakes at their own breakfast table. There’s no right or wrong. It’s what suits you best.
Home to me, personally, is a lot of things. It’s the smell of traditional Italian marinara sauce streaming from the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon. Or brownies fresh out of the oven when the Boyz first walk in the door when home for a visit. It’s Saturday mornings with fresh berries and eggs on the patio with the Scotties staring up at me so sweetly for a share of my breakfast while Placido Domingo is singing Plaisir d’amour overhead between grateful prayers, warm sips of steaming coffee, and sparkling sunbeams on the water.
Open arms is what makes a home a home. The happiness comes from their welcome. The music they play, the love they convey. Maybe it’s crisp linens, or a fire in the fireplace that set the mood. Most importantly, it’s the presence of your loved ones, comrades and crew.
Home is the people that give me a spring in my step and put a smile on my face. It’s simply sublime and what I love best of all.
When I was recently invited as a house guest for the weekend, my friend asked what I need and would like during my visit. My three responses were: fresh coffee, bacon, and a tall glass of cold water.
I wasn’t serious about the bacon (I love it, but can certainly live without it). And coffee, yes of course coffee (but we’re not living off the grid). Water is the most important of the three—and straight from the tap works perfect for me—but it’s YOU I can’t live without.
When I stay at someone’s home, I don’t want them to even know I was there. Every place has different touches and a personality of its own. If I leave things better than I found them, then gratitude abounds.
Puppies and little children make homes come alive. So do open windows with a fresh Fall breeze.
You may not want to leave the exquisite place you’re visiting, but there’s always a little part of you as you inch toward the end of the trip that has you wanting your home, your own bed, the continuity of one place, and not living out of a suitcase.
Home truly is where the heart is.
Christmas trips with my Boyz remind me of that. I remember those winter break vacations and it stirs up happy memories of sitting in the hot tub with delicious snow pouring down, then running to the warmth of the indoors and a hot shower. I think of red cheeks and the big smiles that snowmobiling brings.
When I was 20-weeks pregnant with my oldest son John, we went to Pittsburg, Kansas for a hometown, snowy Kansas Christmas. From the minute we got there until the minute we left, love flowed from every counter top, plate, chair, room, and each and every log placed on the fire to keep it endlessly going. It felt like a welcoming embrace. I learned a lot that Christmas about simplicity and grace. Thank you Grandmother Pat.
Wherever you choose to call home, it’s something to be over-the-top grateful for. A comfortable, healthy and loving home is a vital ingredient in the pursuit of a meaningful life. Your home says a lot about who you are and what you think is important.
I appreciate that we’re all different and that there’s all sorts of ways to make it work. A nap in the easy chair is just as much fun as a cup of tea while strolling through the citrus trees. It’s HOME sweet HOME.