I set down my cup of coffee and try to make myself comfortable on the white sofa. It’s not really a sofa or a couch; the name “couch” does it injustice. Edwardian seating is what I settled with. It’s very desirable, but comfort may not be its primary function; nevertheless, it goes well in this room. I try my best tossing this way and that to find a comfortable spot.
The off-white mood in this room complements the numerous window panes framed in black. A rustic urn sits atop a weathered table overflowing with weeping ivy, and I kind of like the isolated green effect. The worn patterned white rug is placed exactly beneath the intricate chandelier. I take a second glance, which raises a thought; It doesn’t really belong, and yet it does. Like the French doors, they too look better suited to a chateau somewhere in southern France, but somehow they work.
The daylight swarms through the panes and warms up the space a bit. It needs that warm energy because the room feels unused. The mismatched books scattered here and there give the room a little pop of color. I hear the small footsteps as the other member of this family appears. She’s a full-grown husky. She settles beside me on the floor. She too fits in well here, almost as if the room was built around her white-and-gray mood board.
This is a new house, new for the young owners at least. They’re excited to begin a new chapter. I look around and recall my first new home. I remember the anxiety that crawls around you when you sit in that conference room signing away your life. The uneasy thoughts that cross your mind: how in one sitting your financial freedom no longer belongs; it gets tied down and distributed, all in that one sitting. The uneasiness slowly dwindles when the keys to your very own piece of property sit in the clasp of your palm. From there, what matters most is the pride you feel of owning a piece of space you will now call home. The place that allows you to be yourself, comfortably giving you an identity, a place to live in secluded freedom.
Once upon a time is how the story begins; you’ll remember the year you established your first home, and you’ll remember exactly how it happened. In the coming decades, the walls will tell stories. They’ll hold frames and unfold memories. They’ll speak volumes about the perseverance, dedication, and commitment that went into making a house your home.
When the boxes are emptied, and everything has its place. When rooms are filled, and the furniture has settled. When the china is displayed, and the plants have adjusted, you realize home is where you, too, grow and learn the biggest lessons of being a responsible adult. Just like the roots of a tree, the foundation here will begin a journey upwards. Holding together family, friendships, and lifelong bonds.
Within these rooms, items will get replaced, and with each era, new modern versions will become the highlights, but the floors and ceilings will remain to remind you of the laughter, the footsteps, the sadness, and bygones. This house will become a security blanket. We all need to be sheltered. We need a place to protect us from the elements. It’ll become a gathering place, a place where celebrations happen. It will also be the only place where the soul will be the most bare and organic. You’ll feather this nest, which someday will be filled and then just like that, will become empty.
The staircase will leave marks of rushed appointments, the garden will ease into quiet Sunday mornings. The kitchen will leave a taste of thankful meals, burnt toast and new recipes that aspired through trial and error. The doors will open and close a thousand times, and a thousand times over you will enter your home and shut out the world to make peace with yourself.
Every house deserves to be treated like a temple. A house transitions into a home with love. May the devotees handle it with the care it deserves. Someday you will look back at that old house, the aged neighborhood, and the weathered streets. You will remember how it all began and how you grew and left it all behind.
And so, to the proud owners of this humble abode, I offer some advice. Every night when the lights go out, say a thankful whisper, for the roof over your head, for the food on the table, and for the love that surrounds you. Never forget how it all began; the feeling you felt when you entered the door to your home for the very first time. May your heart always have a home, and may you always remain humble in it.
