It's Not a House
Anchoring with today's word:
Home.
Home.
I was fortunate enough to be born and raised, and now live next to, the same Home for 56 years. Actually, that was also the year my parents moved into their Home, 1956. (I'm sure there's some fancy math word for those two relating numbers, but we'll save that for later.)
In 1967 my grandparents retired from Ohio and built a little 1000 square foot house next to us - kinda took away our horses roaming area, but at that time, we had 1000's of acres to play and roam, as Steiner Ranch was simply a ranch, and life was the same - quite simple. I'd roam bareback on my palomino, Tammy. Most of the time wearing a swimsuit (not a surprise to those that know me well, I'm sure). She was my form of transportation, fun and play - and at times we fought like siblings, as she was infamous for having to wear a bow on her tail (signaling a kicker) and I for many times getting tossed, thrown and toppled from her 16 hand height, most often when she sensed "barn" and off she'd go galloping - down our caliche driveway or under and through that darn clothes line my grandparents insisted on stringing a full 60 feet along the side of their property. Tammy - heading Home - and me, along for the ride - or left in the dust, clothes lined again. But we were still buddies - and she will always signify Home.
When my grandfather passed in 2001, we purchased his Home. And in 1999 started our journey of raising kids at our Home, which was his Home, which was also next to my parent's Home.
Home.
They are two houses. Four acres of land. But man - are there so many memories with Home. I guess I'm fortunate that my parents were able to support us at one Home, we didn't ever have to pack up, move around, chase jobs or find new schools. We were always Home.
When I moved from Home to college (UT Austin), it lasted a year. I sprouted my wings, adventured off and began my life. But it wasn't long and I started coming Home again, bringing friends, sharing
'our' Home.. I didn't come Home just because my clothes needed washing (well....), but because the memories, the fun, the family, the connections, the lake. Mom and Dad started sharing their place with all of us, girlfriends, ski friends, college friends, and my boyfriend that I started dating when I was 19, Steve. It was everyone's Home. In fact, we still joke that when Steve and I had a brief break up in the late 90's, he came Home! (Where the heck was I supposed to go, Mom and Dad?!?) But we eventually worked that out and I came Home, too.
When we had our kids my least favorite saying friends and family would tell me was "enjoy them now, because time flies and they'll be gone in a blink." Well, guess what, we blinked. In a couple months our last one will be out of the house on to pursue his dreams (but I do have money on the fact that he'll come Home frequently).
"The years go by fast, but the days go by slow."
I used to tell my friends this when they had kids. But I was wrong; the years don't just go by fast, they totally disappear. And then you're left sitting alone, at Home, wondering what you would have done different. How you would have savored each day a bit more. There have been days in the past couple years when life has been speeding along at a time warp that I've yearned from the depths of my soul to get to "replay" a week, a month or a year of the boys' lives. The times when I wasn't "Present", in the moment, mindful, conscious, plugged into their squeals, giggles, clingy moments, "let's watch Toy Story for the 45th time" days.
And then something unprecedented like this health crisis comes along, and everyone's Home.
In just a few short days, our family habits have unintentionally taken grip. Dinner time, "Where's Dad?" "Let's not eat until Dad comes in." And we all sit down to the same little round table, same little kitchen, in the same little 1200 square foot tiny house, Home.
"Who's in the shower?" Because that does matter in a tiny 1200 square foot house. One of us runs to the little door, tapping, rapping. Three of us our jammed up into the tiny hallway, frantic about who gets the next move. "Hurry up, we all need to shower." And when it turns off, there's a grizzly bear race to the second, only other bathroom. "Mine!" And there's a group, grimace, giggle, some things never change warmth that moves us. Home.
"Mom, what are you doing tomorrow?" Well, he should kinda know the answer by now, seeing as I no longer have a job, I'll be Home. "I don't have any set plans yet, what do you want to do?" "I was thinking maybe we could go out on the lake together, spend some time together." Home.
I've seen so many signs and sayings through the years.
Home is where the heart is. Home, Sweet, Home. There is no place like Home. Home is where you hang your heart.
Home isn't a place, it's a feeling.
None of these state that home is a two story, brick and mortar house, or perfectly groomed lawn, or neatly cleaned and pillows perfectly placed on each chair kinda place.
Home.
My word for the day. Not the noun, but the adverb, "deep, to the heart." The feelings, the emotions - not of yester-years, but the ones I can make today. Taking this "forced" time as a blessing to connect, live, be "Present" at Home with those that make this house a Home.
I refuse to be bound to my house. But today I'm thankful to spend time Home.
In 1967 my grandparents retired from Ohio and built a little 1000 square foot house next to us - kinda took away our horses roaming area, but at that time, we had 1000's of acres to play and roam, as Steiner Ranch was simply a ranch, and life was the same - quite simple. I'd roam bareback on my palomino, Tammy. Most of the time wearing a swimsuit (not a surprise to those that know me well, I'm sure). She was my form of transportation, fun and play - and at times we fought like siblings, as she was infamous for having to wear a bow on her tail (signaling a kicker) and I for many times getting tossed, thrown and toppled from her 16 hand height, most often when she sensed "barn" and off she'd go galloping - down our caliche driveway or under and through that darn clothes line my grandparents insisted on stringing a full 60 feet along the side of their property. Tammy - heading Home - and me, along for the ride - or left in the dust, clothes lined again. But we were still buddies - and she will always signify Home.
When my grandfather passed in 2001, we purchased his Home. And in 1999 started our journey of raising kids at our Home, which was his Home, which was also next to my parent's Home.
Home.
They are two houses. Four acres of land. But man - are there so many memories with Home. I guess I'm fortunate that my parents were able to support us at one Home, we didn't ever have to pack up, move around, chase jobs or find new schools. We were always Home.
When I moved from Home to college (UT Austin), it lasted a year. I sprouted my wings, adventured off and began my life. But it wasn't long and I started coming Home again, bringing friends, sharing
'our' Home.. I didn't come Home just because my clothes needed washing (well....), but because the memories, the fun, the family, the connections, the lake. Mom and Dad started sharing their place with all of us, girlfriends, ski friends, college friends, and my boyfriend that I started dating when I was 19, Steve. It was everyone's Home. In fact, we still joke that when Steve and I had a brief break up in the late 90's, he came Home! (Where the heck was I supposed to go, Mom and Dad?!?) But we eventually worked that out and I came Home, too.
When we had our kids my least favorite saying friends and family would tell me was "enjoy them now, because time flies and they'll be gone in a blink." Well, guess what, we blinked. In a couple months our last one will be out of the house on to pursue his dreams (but I do have money on the fact that he'll come Home frequently).
"The years go by fast, but the days go by slow."
I used to tell my friends this when they had kids. But I was wrong; the years don't just go by fast, they totally disappear. And then you're left sitting alone, at Home, wondering what you would have done different. How you would have savored each day a bit more. There have been days in the past couple years when life has been speeding along at a time warp that I've yearned from the depths of my soul to get to "replay" a week, a month or a year of the boys' lives. The times when I wasn't "Present", in the moment, mindful, conscious, plugged into their squeals, giggles, clingy moments, "let's watch Toy Story for the 45th time" days.
And then something unprecedented like this health crisis comes along, and everyone's Home.
In just a few short days, our family habits have unintentionally taken grip. Dinner time, "Where's Dad?" "Let's not eat until Dad comes in." And we all sit down to the same little round table, same little kitchen, in the same little 1200 square foot tiny house, Home.
"Who's in the shower?" Because that does matter in a tiny 1200 square foot house. One of us runs to the little door, tapping, rapping. Three of us our jammed up into the tiny hallway, frantic about who gets the next move. "Hurry up, we all need to shower." And when it turns off, there's a grizzly bear race to the second, only other bathroom. "Mine!" And there's a group, grimace, giggle, some things never change warmth that moves us. Home.
"Mom, what are you doing tomorrow?" Well, he should kinda know the answer by now, seeing as I no longer have a job, I'll be Home. "I don't have any set plans yet, what do you want to do?" "I was thinking maybe we could go out on the lake together, spend some time together." Home.
I've seen so many signs and sayings through the years.
Home is where the heart is. Home, Sweet, Home. There is no place like Home. Home is where you hang your heart.
Home isn't a place, it's a feeling.
None of these state that home is a two story, brick and mortar house, or perfectly groomed lawn, or neatly cleaned and pillows perfectly placed on each chair kinda place.
Home.
My word for the day. Not the noun, but the adverb, "deep, to the heart." The feelings, the emotions - not of yester-years, but the ones I can make today. Taking this "forced" time as a blessing to connect, live, be "Present" at Home with those that make this house a Home.
I refuse to be bound to my house. But today I'm thankful to spend time Home.
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