Home is a concept that I struggle with at times.
One of my favorite places in the world is my parent’s house. It has been quite a few years since I have lived there, but still it retains that feeling of home. It feels safe and comfortable.
I remember when I was a kid, I would go over to my grandparents house, and it struck me as odd that my mom used to live there. I wondered if she would occassionally look around and remember eating breakfast there as a child or running out the door to go to school or walking out the door to get married.
And now perhaps I know the answer. Because when I’m at my parents house, I do ocassionally remember those things. It’s like a metaphorical time machine. It can bring me back in time the same way a song can. But obviously, this is not what I’m usually thinking about when I’m there.
And then I look around my house, and I worry that my girls won’t have the same feelings about my home. I see the chaos and the mess. I see the microwave that needs fixing and the carpet that I would love to replace. But then I also look at my living room and I remember TJ holding Magoo there as an infant. I see where we laid her when she was using her biliblanket. I look at the corner of my bedroom and I remember rocking Goosie there for hours when she was a newborn trying to get her to sleep. I remember the first time TJ and I set foot in here. I remember the bones of the house before there were walls. I remember exactly where I was standing all three times i told TJ I was pregnant.
And then I look at my girls. I see Goosie laying on the floor in the kitchen drinking out of her sippy. I see Magoo getting water out of the fridge and Mae lying on the floor under her baby gym taking a little cat nap.
And I realize that they don’t see any of the inadequacies that I see. They see their home.
And that makes me proud.
I am so glad that my girls have a safe home where they can grow and flourish. I realize that our backyard is where they will have their memories of catching fireflies. As a woman, Magoo will think back to when she used to look out her bedroom window at the stars and try to find constellations with Daddy. And we all will have memories of them walking down the stairs on Christmas morning with wonder and anticipation in their eyes.
And ever since I started thinking about all of this, I have started to see my house differently. Yesterday, when I stepped on my three hundredth princess figurine, I realized that all the mess and chaos is merely a sign of life. It’s the byproducts of living and growing.
And now I sit on the couch with my two oldest girls while they watch The Muppet Movie and I feel the connection from the past to the present. This is the movie I used to sit in the living room as a child watching while I was playing with my toys, and now they are doing the same in their living room.
Throughout life, I think we all strive to create home, both physically and spiritually. But there is always something special about a childhood home. And I hope mine gives the girls as fond of memories as I have.