Wednesday, May 18, 2011
A Place to Call Home
I ask the universe to provide me a home of my own. I've never had that, a home of my own, that is. Yes, I've shared homes with a husband and children but I've never had a home of my very own - one that I can paint and rearrange and love and nurture and make my own without having to ask permission or get another's approval of my ideas or buy furniture in colors and styles I don't like just so I can compromise....
Not an apartment but a proper home. It’s a small place I want; as long as I'm asking: a place by the sea. A place by the sea in Scotland. A place by the sea in Scotland where I can sit at my writing desk and see the sea in all her moods.
I see a white vinyl clapboard home with a deep three sided wraparound porch. The porch flooring and the kick plates on the front steps are painted bright purple. I will paint the ceiling that cool pool blue that makes it feel like it’s only 70 degrees instead of 92 and the ceiling fan, always softly whirring on summer days, is a soft but not quite pure white. The furniture is overstuffed, comfortable, and dressed in vintage ‘50s pink and green cabbage roses. There is a giant fern sitting on top of each of the posts at the top of the front stairs. The kitchen stairs off the back are lined with many different colored pots of herbs.
My front door is painted lavender and the shutters at each window – turned in the opposite direction like old-fashioned church doors, are painted the same shade. Each shutter has a beautiful scallop shell hand painted on it. Window boxes hung outside at each opening with flowers and ferns spilling over the edges compliment the lacy curtains I’ve hung.
My home has screen doors on each outside access point. Screen doors sing their stories with each slap/slam or gentle snick closing. Screen doors greet you with excitement when they are opened - it's a sound much like a child squealing with joy upon receiving their heart’s desire on Christmas morn.
My modest home has three bedrooms. Mine faces the sea as does the side window of my kitchen and my living room. My kitchen has a white Aga, an old one. The bumps and dings from years of use have lent it a comforting glow, very similar to my old woman’s face now filled with lines and wrinkles.
I have a fireplace in my home. It’s gas as I have to think of the days when I’m older and can no longer carry in firewood to warm me in the winter.
I don’t have a lot of ‘stuff’ in my home; I have some well loved and well used pieces in my living room, my bedrooms are almost Spartan in their simplicity but beautiful all the same because of the quilts and accent pieces on the walls. I don’t have a dining room, just a huge eat in kitchen that is the heart of my home for my family and friends.
And Dear Universe, if this is too much to ask for, a croft would be lovely as well.
It's a simple place, my home. It's simple as that's how I want to live this last part of my life: simply and filled with joy for each new day, and appreciation for each thought and action and friend.
With mindful intent and gratitude, I ask the universe for my home, my safe haven, my sanctuary so that I may end my days writing the stories that have been simmering in my soul for all these long years.