As we slowly pack up our condo
in Lewistown, one can't help but
feel nostalgic. For eight years this
has truly been "home". We have
lived full time in other places until
recently. Oddly those apartments
where we spent the majority of our
time were just spaces where we ate
and slept. What makes your abode
a "home"? There's no easy answer
given a unique combination of all
sorts of factors blend together to
create a "home". Here's my recipe...
There's a reason people gather to
live in the same place. Whether
it's blood, love, friendship, or just
circumstance, something drives us
to cohabitate. The intimacy that
results is a strong elixir that can
inspire or alienate depending on
a variety of factors. When it isn't
working, most can't wait to move
out. Yet when the group dynamic
is right, suddenly a rather ordinary
physical space can suddenly be
transformed into a lair of love.
Time changes everything. Tenure
seems to fuel our sense of home.
As we moved from city to city in
four year spurts, our abodes never
had the time to become "home".
Whereas Lewistown has been part
of our conjoined life for nineteen
years and our condo for over eight.
Slowly the continuity of that single
shared space anchored us. It was
our insurance policy. No matter
what might happen, it was always
there. We could always go "home"!
Anyone who's ever looked for a new
house or apartment knows it. That
feeling one gets when you walk in
the door. Rather than just a space, you
connect with this environment. It just
feels right and you know you can make
it a home. Whatever causes this love
connection differs for each of us. Yet
what's magical is when two or more all
agree. That's when it's time to sign on
the dotted line and start packing. Once
you truly make it yours, you're "home".
Call it chemistry or kismet, it's magic!
I don't know about you but we've
got a lot of baggage. Years ago,
post checking into any hotel, I
immediately rearranged all of the
furniture before unpacking my
things. A few silver framed photos
and a candle and voila - it was now
my space. I've moved on from that
sort of mania. However possessions
can transform a box into a unique
and personal space. Simply putting
one's mark on wherever we reside
tells everyone you're "home".
I've learned over the years that things
don't really matter, people do. Now
don't get me wrong, I adore lovely
things. That said, the rhythm of our
lives and resulting memories are what
make a house a "home". In hindsight,
I rarely dream of my parent's decor.
What I recall is the loving touch of
my Mother's hand or the joy in my
father's laugh. We create memories
not things. Who and how you share
your life is how you build a"home".
Go ahead... click your ruby slippers!
