My parent’s home is a haven. My mother has a knack for creating a space that oozes nurturing. You never walk into her house when you don’t smell something delicious cooking. Everything is in its place. The towels are fluffy, the sheets are soft and there is a box tissues in every room. All the remotes have live batteries in them. Nothing in her home is broken. All the closets and drawers are neat and orderly. There is a feeling of love and care when you walk in the door.
When I got divorced I vowed to have a home that reflected my personality completely and that was child friendly. I wanted my children to be able to play inside the house and to have a place to hang out with their friends that was welcoming and fun. I remembered picking out bright, cheerful colors for the walls, and how my heart swelled when I placed the toys that belonged to my father when he was a child where they could be seen. I remembered my joy at arranging a cluster of my children’s pictures on my grandmother’s piano. I remembered sitting in each room and breathing in the possibilities for my future. It was such an exciting place for me to be.
Somewhere in the busyness I lost sight of that home. I realized that I had let the tyranny of the urgent keep me from enjoying the very space I work so hard to keep. Cleaning had become like drudgery, and the closets and drawers begged for attention. Today I walked through my home and saw it with a new eye. I saw a space that had covered my family and provided warmth for us. I saw rooms that have witnessed my daughter grow through high school and leave for college. The dining room table spoke to me of many birthdays and celebrations. The coziness of the den spoke of a thousand movies that we have shared there. The kitchen echoed the heartbeat of our home, shiny and modern, standing sentry over the preparation of many meals. Laughter reverberated in the walls. My bedroom shone of dreams realized and some yet to be fulfilled.
As I reach the end of 2012 I realize that I am becoming more mindful of the life I am building. Every day is calling out to me to notice the people and events going on around me. My mind is learning to be still and to rest. My body is getting back in touch with intuition and my spirit is beginning to shake off the lethargy of being ignored and numbed down. I am becoming more "me" every day.
I realized today when I walked through my house that I have created a home here for me and my children. It isn’t my mother’s home, it isn’t perfect, but it reflects the things that I value. There are books, music, healthy food and cozy spaces to sit and visit. It isn’t orderly, but it isn’t a mess either. It contains all the ingredients for happiness. And there is a box of tissues in every room.