THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

A favorite spot in my home

Is anywhere better than home?  I've lived in some strange places and loved them all.  One a three room basement apartment beneath a heavy smoker with a loud cough and next-door to the rumbling laundry.  One might wonder why such a noisy year would be fondly remembered, but it is.  We painted all the used furniture (actually curb-side retrievals) a high-gloss green or blue--except the bookshelves of  brick & board  which we painted a high-gloss white.   Low ceilings, a window in the living room and bedroom, but bath and kitchen dark and underground.  I taught English to 10th graders and loved it.  My husband was a seminarian.   This was in St. Louis, Missouri. 

I can't say it was my favorite home but for that year it was both an adventure and haven.  A stray cat lived with us.  

Later we lived in a roomy parsonage in Illinois in the middle-of-nowhere.  Soy beans, corn fields, graveyard out back, gravel roads, electric fence between us and the cattle, and two babies 14 months apart.  Not my favorite home either but, at the time, perfect.  Braid rug in the kitchen, window air-conditioners for the brutal Midwest summers and just an hour from family.  The cattle broke out a few times but no one got gored.

Oh, and (how could I forget), one year in a two-room flat in a reconverted Slovenian butcher shop in Cleveland, Ohio where my husband was a Vicar.  We slept on a pull-out couch in the living room.  So cozy.  Plus an eat-in kitchen and a truly lovely garden out back.  The kitchen had charming white cabinets with red trim.  We put a throw (blue and green naturally) on the one itchy chair by our pull-out bed and painted the walls pale green, but left the kitchen white.  I loved reading in that garden.  I taught English to 12th graders; they were the best kids.  

All these homes.  And many more since then.  Ranch,  two story,  a 'modified' Dutch Colonial (still can't figure that out), and for the last many years a mid-century modern in the woods, hands-down my favorite.  

What triggered these memories?  Well, I've mentioned that UK magazine The Simple Things.  They do a feature on "My Place," the corners of our homes that mean the most to us.  Last month (it arrives a month late) it was the "view from the bed."   One person said, "I always wanted a bedroom that was both cozy and moody." Here's the photo:

Isn't this the loveliest room for reflection?  I've never had a bedroom this dramatic. And isn't the idea of a moody bedroom original?   Someone else described their bedroom as a soothing space, with a window view of sky, birds and rooftops.  That also sounds wonderful.  I love a city view of rooftops.  Most everyone described their bedroom as a sanctuary, no matter the size or placement.  Attic rooms have their  charms.  Some people like to let in the world, some like to shut it out.  

It's interesting to see how people live and what they like.  And why is it that our recall of where we have lived almost always brings positive emotions and feelings, no matter that it may not be where we want to live now? The reason must be healthy.  

We often read that every  emotion is just fine;  that there are no wrong emotions.  I find this reassuring.  Sometimes I feel guilty for being happy when the world is on fire.  Sometimes the other way around:  why am I down when crocuses are up and forsythia are blooming?  But today it's just a plain memory of places lived and the joys there.  Perhaps you might think of the same, places lived and what they mean to you.  I'm glad I ran across this article.                                        Nina Naomi