Friday, February 20, 2009

Coming Home

My thoughts turned to home the last few days. But it wasn't my actual, current home that filled my mind but the concept of home.

I think it started the other day when my beloved commented that I always called our new place by the street name and referred to her place as home. And I call my Dad's old place "the farm" now even though it is less farm now than ever before.

Then at the office we had a meeting about some projects we are considering to promote the development of "the farm" and that naturally led to a nostalgic look down the memories of my mind.

Mind you they aren't the historically accurate memories necessarily but those happy, idealized memories. I probably could get the historically accurate ones but the idealized ones are more pleasant and easier to reach.

I was still thinking about it as I drove home today. My beloved's childhood home came into view as I approached our turn. It is more than 100 years old. There is an old cellar on one side. We just put a new door on that cellar and we are cleaning it out. Turns out there is an old well down there that is fed by a spring. There is a pump that no longer works that took care of any excess water. So the old cellar had water in it that had to be pumped out.

There were old Mason jars in that cellar that had been put down there no telling how long ago. We'll keep the empties but the others will be discarded along with now unidentifiable contents.

I noticed two cars there in the drive as I turned the corner. I knew they belonged to the oldest child and the youngest. They were there visiting their mother who did not know they were coming.

That's when it occurred to me that one of the major things about home is that it is a place you can go where you are always welcome and you never have to call ahead.

Undoubtedly there is more that defines the concept of home but I like that one.


Lori1955 said...

After reading this, I counted up the different homes I have lived in. There were 17 that I can remember. I never think back on any of them as home. To tell you the truth, when I think of going home, I think of death. Yes, I know I'm wierd. ;)

dave said...

I have not lived in as many houses as Lori, but my folks sold the house were I spent most of my life to the time I went away to college. But the house I built 33 years ago, and have lived inmost of that time, is what I call home.
It was a bit small but livable for 5 of us but now Miriam and I rattle around in it.
Home is an idea I think, maybe more than a place.

arutherford said...

I've lived in my current home for 34 years in April. I grew up 3 doors down the street. I never thought about this until your post Flinty. The house down the street was my parent's home. The house I am in is my home.

There's volumes more to those thoughts, some of which are on the surface, some of which run deep. Perhaps I will contemplate those thoughts. Or, perhaps I will just enjoy my home. ;-}
P.S. Love your new blog!

Anonymous said...

Like you, I started writing my caregiving journey after my mom (who had Parkinson's and Alzheimer's) moved in with my family me. My "porch" was the river behind our house. I'd go there to pray, think, cry, and sometimes scream.

For me, home is that place you never really left.

~Carol D. O'Dell
author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter's Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir, available on Amazon

flintysooner said...

Thanks to Lori, Dave, Ann and Carol. I checked on Amazon for your book Carol and requested it be made available for the Kindle. I look forward to reading your book.

~Betsy said...

Up until about 15 years ago, I thought of home as my childhood home. Since we bought the farm house we are in now, this has been home.

Regardless, emptying and selling my childhood home was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.