…even if you live in a shack. Because the bricks and mortar are not important!!
My father emailed me this photo of our snow-covered drive a few days ago. Just an ordinary scene in an ordinary road in ordinary English seaside town. Someone once commented,
“Your parents’ house is so small!”
Yeah, compared to his parents, sure it is. But….
I never thought about my childhood home as small (or big). Posh or not. Nice or not. For me, it’s just HOME, where I had been most happy. This place is about walking down the same road with my beloved mother, skipping along the pavement, yakking to her as she smiled patiently and lovingly at me (always!). We have so many walks down this road together, my mother and I.
It’s about the snowball fights I had with my brothers, too. Sitting by the window and watching birds pick the rowan berries. And later, this house is about my children, my nephew and my niece running around making a lot of noise and a lot of mess. And my mother loving it. A few months ago, I posted a photo of my second son’s Ducati parked in the front – he was indoors with his feet up, showing off his new girlfriend. My parents had bustled around the young couple happily. I wondered what the girl thought about it all.
This house contains a lot of love.
I feel tears stinging my eyes. My God, I miss this place.
I was (am) sitting somewhere really stunning, sailing on a perfect tropical day. I brought my paddleboard along on the boat and had just explored some really stunning shoreline.
But there’s no place like home. Truly the best place in the world, however small, however ordinary, however cold ❤