I have had several places to call ‘home’. My childhood home, my college, the ‘places’ I lived during grad school, again- my childhood home, the homes we built for our family, the homes I’ve made for myself as a single person. These at first feel strange, temporary, unfamiliar. But in time they become my own, I get my flow, I can pace the steps from room-to-room, know the ‘sounds’. They become a place of comfort both a place to rest and a place to live life. A place to create and welcome, and a place to hide away.
I had the opportunity earlier this week to change my home. A well-let apartment on a lower floor of my building, with THE view of our little town center became vacant. My partner and I explored the possibility of splitting the higher rent and sharing the space. We walked through and talked about how to make this our home, fantasized about how we would jointly use the space creating nooks throughout to dine, to read, to create, to highlight our things, to capitalize on the view. We agreed to sleep on it and approach the landlord in the morning. I went to bed, unsettled. The space really didn’t feel right. I can reside anywhere, but I did not feel I could live there happily. The exposure of facing the green, of being on a lower floor with neighbors passing by in the hall, the mashed up overhead lighting, the amount of interrupted wall space, the overall layout, and most importantly the soul of the place were all wrong.
I recalled walking into my current space 2 1/2 years ago and it feeling RIGHT. I could work with this to create a home, it felt like ‘me’ . It felt like a place to rest and hide, a place to create and welcome, with the furniture and linens and plants and decorations that have accumulated and tell my story, my family’s story. Despite the broken downspout outside my window, the cold bedroom in the SW corner, and the noise of the village traffic, this space is not just a place to reside, but where I call home. [At least until my next big adventure!]
What a beautiful reflection about the homes you’ve lived in, your current home, and that sense of knowing when a place feels just right. Though it’s been a while, I remember when we were house-hunting. As we toured each home, I looked not only at the spaces but also at the feeling and energy the home exuded. The flow of the space, the natural light, and the images of what life would be like in this possible home. Nothing felt quite right until we walked into the home we live in. As you said, “it felt like me.” It felt like us.
At the same time, over the years, I’ve come to experience that home is a feeling I carry with me no matter where I go. When I left my childhood home at 17, the grounding and growing that I had in those formative years followed me wherever I went- to the college dorm, college apartment, NYC apartment, loft in Brooklyn, and then our home in the Hudson Valley. And in the different (very few) places I’ve lived, the idea of home kept expanding. While I recognize that I am able to create home wherever I go (visiting family, friends, staying in hotels, or airbnbs), I am very much grounded and anchored in our current home of almost 40 years.
Like you Kim, I have always had a physical reaction to places I’ve lived. I am pretty easy going about hanging out anywhere for a short time- vacation homes, camp grounds, friends homes and motels, but to truly be comfortable the home I live in every day has to have that physical feeling about it that I belong there.
So glad you said no to the apartment downstairs. I have lived with others and alone and both have significant perks. Easier to live alone but lonelier. Much more compromise when living with others but always joys to share. I find now as I am edging towards 76 I want someone else around to share meals and conversations with. So the space has to right for both of you or the compromise will be too much.
I am still ruminating over the scientific concept you spoke about last night. Fascinating for me to think about the space between. Seems like you are living it.
As I read your reflection and journeyed through the years with you, I sensed that you are one of these women who are well aware that they carry the essence of “home” within, no matter where their feet land for the moment.
Your body feels the energy of the place you enter and informs you. You pay attention, yet another gift you possess. As I read about the hesitancy you felt about the possibility of a new apartment, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was it just the energy of the apartment that made you hesitate? Is it possible that opening your refuge and sharing with another adds to the hesitation? Loving someone and enjoying their company does not mean you are ready to cross that threshold. You worked hard to regain your footing as a single person, and you are loving the “place to rest and hide, a place to create and welcome, with the furniture and linens and plants and decorations that have accumulated and tell my story, my family’s story.”
Maybe you need a bit longer in that place that is all your own.
I love this idea of your current space just feeling RIGHT. I’m big believer that a space holds energy and sometimes it’s just not meant for us. Kudos to you for exploring another space that seemed like it’d feel right, but in the end you knew what felt more like home. Your twinkle lights will light the way no matter where you go!
I love being home! It’s not that I don’t like adventuring, but I appreciate the space Steve and I have created together over these last almost 40 years. It’s a uniquely Steve and Linda place. There’s nothing typical about it. But aside from what it looks like, the memories and energy it holds reverberate in the spaces. I remember feeling that positive energy when we first saw the house.
Love, creativity, closeness, family, and friends are ever-present. People both here and gone are with us. New traditions and old ones permeate our home. Music, quiet, lots of soft surfaces and textures, good smells, art, books, various collections, and lots of color.
Of course, it’s not been all happy, happy. We’ve had our share of struggles, illness, loss, and painful growth. And I know we’ll have more as time goes on. But our home and all the good feelings and experiences here help us like a ‘resilience blanket’ to navigate the more challenging times.
There are also spaces in need of culling. Because after all of these years of living, we have accumulated stuff. It’s an interesting thing how we gather and then depossess. Because you know, as they say, “You can’t take it with you.”
Your phrase about home is where we come at the end of the day to be our “unmasked selves” really hit me. I work from home, so I’m here all day. However, I have a day-to-evening ritual, which marks that transition. While there are many parts of the day I love, perhaps my end-of-day routine is one of my most treasured. It’s the bra off, pjs on time. I wash and moisturize my face, remove and put away the day’s clothes, change into my hot pink velvet slippers, and slip into the softest layers of relaxed wear. I exhale- a big exhale. There I am. My most me. No makeup, no socks, no bra to hold up the ‘girls.’ No expectation to work more. I give myself permission to be completely comfortable in the place I love most…home.
When I read your first sentence I chuckled because my friends have nicknamed me
“The Unibomber” because I can disappear in either of my houses and not come out for days. I simply love being in my cocoon.
I also so relate to the concept of being gathers in our adult life – through my fifties and then suddenly realizing it’s time to start getting rid of all the accumulated “stuff”. Having two homes right now heightens that feeling to the max.
Linda I love your positive outlook on life. It brings joy to me to be surrounded by your smile and your spirit at our monthly gathering. My partner, Babs, loves to get out of day clothes too. She calls it putting on her “ leisure suit”. You have added a new concept , pink fuzzy slippers – something to put under the tree for her!
Kim, spaces definitely have energy. I grew up in a haunted house, and I can always tell when I walk into a space if it is one of healing or disquiet. I’m so glad for you that you chose not to take the apartment. Onward ho, you go to welcome new adventures!
Linda, I loved everything about your post, but mostly it left me feeling like the author of it (you) seem quite content; and what a wonderful thing that is!
I love that the “uniquely Steve and Linda place” has gathered “all the good feelings and experiences” and built a “resilience blanket” to place around you when you need it. Isn’t that what a home should be?
A well-loved and lived-in home is a breathing, living old friend in whose presence we can rest and exhale for a while. It seems to me that your home is exactly that.
I love your evening ritual. It reminds me of when I was in corporate. I would get back from the long working days, and the first thing I would do after closing the door behind me and hugging the girls was to take off clothes, shoes, and makeup, put my laptop and phone away, and be home.
I wish you many more years of building warm and happy memories and sharing them with your loved ones.
The phrase “home is where the heart is” has popped into my head several times while navigating this prompt and after reading your post, I absolutely vote we change it to “home is where the bra comes off.” The space we can be our most natural and relaxed.
Ah, Linda, that evening ritual is perfection! I have always wanted a work-from-home job, because I also just love being home. My anti-corporate/anti-capitalism brain says “why do I have to travel away from my home, to spend so many hours a day, away from the space that I’ve worked so hard to create and in which I feel most comfortable?” I barely want to invite people over- I have to really trust and feel connected to people to *want* to have them in my home-space. I appreciate your mentioning of your ritual, because I think I need to hone my own rituals in more. They are not consistent, and I think that could be helpful in my current life/home space. The bra is absolutely always off at home though! No need for that societally-programmed nonsense at home
When I thought about the ground I stand on, I said to myself I need three legs! I stand on places of recognition where I feel a true sense of belonging in Long Island,
Connecticut and Delaware.
I grew up on Long Island- elementary, junior and senior high in the same school district. Close family and close friends! You have all heard many of my growing up adventures. Now Long Island is my Summer haven. I place to hang on the porch, float in the pool, walk on the beach and connect with a few of my nephews who live on the Island. It is the place that my partner in crime, Babs, loves the most. All her cousins live here. It is the place she feels the strongest connection to family and to her career.
Westchester and Southern Connecticut are the places I lived throughout my career. I had three significant homes – a tiny apartment we called Tatoo in Bedford Hills, a converted barn in Danbury with a huge forest field behind it where we learned how to live with bats, mice and frozen pipes, and an apartment in New Canaan that became everyone from my school’s go to spot! Close, meaningful and comfortable friendships thrived in all three of these homes . Annual cookie bake gatherings, scavenger hunt parties, game nights, sleep overs with my best buddies, planning sessions for school extravaganzas, snow shoveling and leaf raking group efforts, walks through the woods and stacking piles of wood burner wood.
Delaware is the new ground I walk on. A new bright yellow house with a big front porch is always welcoming. Delaware is the spot two of my siblings decided to settle. It’s our way of making sure we don’t lose the sense of family our parents instilled in us. We can see each other at a moments notice and have dinner together at least once a week. Everyone knows each other’s garage door codes and comes to the rescue when garbage needs to be taken out or a gas leak happens. We live in the “Hood” and there is something very supportive about waving to neighbors as they walk by and chatting about the latest neighborhood scandal.
But as David Whyte says, “Ground is what holds and supports us, but also what we cannot recognize or do not want to be true; it is what challenges us physically or psychologically, irrespective of our hoped for needs.” So what’s challenging about having these three legs is figuring out how long they can hold up! There are little nagging questions that pop up every once in a while. Some I don’t want to face.
Do my supportive siblings want to deal with supporting the aging process? I am not sure they want to take that on. Where do I want my final resting place to be? Buried on Long Island, creamated and sprinkled everywhere or becoming the new age compost! Why is it so hard to make new friends and will my close friends fade into the woodwork simply because of lack of proximity? Can I rekindle creative energy in a new spot, in a new way? When one or two of my three legs begins to wobble where do I want to be?
When I took a break from writing, I walked into the living room and saw a souvenir Babs Dad brought back to us from Ireland. It is a three-legged milking stool. Hand crafted and sturdy as can be. I have attached a photo of it. I hope that now with new knees I can be as sturdy as the stool and strong enough to stay grounded in who I am while I navigate both the visible and invisible terrain.
Kathy, This is such a wonderful post. I love all of your questions toward the end, and then the three-legged green stool! It’s beautiful, and a perfectly placed symbol.
Kathy, Thank you so much for this beautiful piece of written memory and future ponderings. I feel I have been very lucky as of late to have several friends, who are older than I am, tackling the serious questions of aging and its oftentimes uncomfortable and unwanted practicalities. You are all guiding lights to me as I move into this last 1/4 of my life. Hopefully, it will be a very loooonnnngggg quarter. 🙂 I love your stool. What a great piece of Ireland to have with you, in whichever home you chose to rest it.
What a wonderful, full life you have lived and continue to live. Always learning, always growing, and always asking the right questions. I can see how your most recent health adventure is bringing up some of these questions, and rightfully so. You may not want to tackle all the answers right away, but you are strong and smart enough to know they are there, waiting for you to be ready.
For now, your strong knees are keeping you grounded and safe. May they continue to do so. That lovely three-legged stool from Ireland was gifted to you at the right time. It traveled a long way to your living room. It’s slightly bruised and well-used but still standing strong, inspiring us all.
You’ve been a good friend to many, and many have been and continue to be your loyal and loving friends. Yes, it is not easy to make friends as we move around and grow older. The friends we make in our early years will always hold a piece of our history that no other can fully know and understand. That is why these early friends are precious.
Yet, people grow and change. Some people walk with us for a short time, others stay a bit longer, and the rare few stay for the duration of the journey. It is how it is. Doing “friendship” right also requires emotional and physical investment, something some people may or may not be able to always do.
I believe your creativity is calling to you. How you will choose to answer the call is entirely up to you. We’ll be here, cheering you on.
Kathy- How beautifully your image of the three-legged stool represents that grounding anchors in your life. I suspect that if one leg falters, the other two or one will be there to hold you up with strength. Because those legs aren’t just the places you’ve lived or ‘come from,’ but all of the people in your life you’ve nurtured, been connected to, and given so much.
I love the bravery that comes through in the questions you’re pondering. Not easy questions or responses. But knowing how thoughtful and determined you are, I know you will listen to your heart and mind and figure out what’s next.
Kathy, your introspection at the end with your questions is so vulnerable. You’ve lived so much life in so many places, so it makes sense to feel like you’re held up by these different legs. Love the visual with the stool- green really is your color!
Linda, I love that you shared your end of the day ritual. I too put the day away, groom and get cozy. Eric & I have recently added having a cup of tea together after work to share our day, before we dive into preparing our meals and whatever the evening brings. While hot pink will likely never be found in my closet, relaxed wear abounds!
Kathy, With or without new knees, I know you are as sturdy as the Irish stool and strong enough to stay grounded in who you are.
Home, for most of my childhood and adolescence, was in one small Connecticut town, and one modest house, on “Hard Street.” In high school, my idea of home quickly shifted with my parents’ divorce. My idea of home was split in two. That was when I started to look inward for a sense of home. It was, unsurprisingly, a very shaky feeling, and I struggled to find the ground until I was well into my undergraduate studies, after attempting a drastic move to Brooklyn for school and promptly returning to Connecticut after one semester because I was painfully underprepared emotionally and academically for what a degree in Architecture would require. Although I had learned a lot in those days, I continued to search for myself, and the home within myself, through my twenties. My parents, in their separate homes and very separate lives, each still embodied part of my sense of home- their presence, their being, more so than their geographic location, were what made me feel comforted and ‘home’. In moving to North Carolina and returning to school for graduate work, I then truly found myself, through my studies and through connecting with people I had not realized I had yearned for, for my entire life. Through graduate school and 3 moves, I recognized the ground beneath me had firmed and expanded. It was no longer a balancing act between two halves of broken hearts; home was finally wherever I wanted it to be, or, wherever I was. Even now, after moving 3 times within 5 years with my husband, I can (albeit slowly) adjust and settle myself into a space even if it was not originally where I wanted to end up. The house is not my dream home, it is cookie-cutter. But we are making it ours, for now. Because as the saying goes, “wherever you go, there you are.”
Ellen, I read this and thought to myself, “No wonder she can’t unpack.” 3 moves in 5 years is taxing. On so many levels. Give yourself a huge break and much love around the fact that perhaps your body and your spirit is reluctant to unpack one more time. Perhaps, deep inside, you are already feeling yet another future move, hence, why unpack just to pack it all up again.
My parents divorced when I was 18, so I never delt with living in their now separate homes with everyone figuring out a new way of living in new spaces. It does seem a theme for you. It seems a wonderful theme for art. Fractured spaces, fractured people, all creating wholeness in new and imagined ways. I’m sending all my best thoughts your way. Your parting comment, “wherever you go, there you are” is so true on so many levels and planes of existence.
Thank you for giving us a bird’s-eye view of the ground you’ve walked on, over the years. What strikes me is how you remained soft, gentle, loving, and curious in your search for self, home, and solid ground. And, you found each other. You found each other in your studies, community, friends, a partner, and the various homes you inhabited and infused with your sense of home and belonging.
I don’t think I have ever lived in my “dream home.” The life changes I’ve lived through have been radical and kept me searching for a long time. Belonging has been elusive. I learned through it all to create what I long for, no matter the shape or texture of where I land. Like you, I carry the sense of home within. It’s like a well-wrapped present that I place in the center of wherever I land. I slowly unwrap it and let it do its magic. I now know that I can create a home no matter where I live. The container does not matter. What matters is the love, care, and beauty it contains.
You are a quiet but mighty force of love and creativity. Pretty soon, the house you call home these days will begin to absorb and radiate back what you bring to it.
Ellen- There is strength and gentleness that comes through because of the challenges you’ve faced. Your ‘found poems’ are always poignant, deep, and surprising. As in, how did you find just the right words to turn into a word collage?
Moving three times in five years is a lot. Moving once in that time would have been a lot. It’s exhausting and disruptive. But as you’ve done before and will again, there’s something settling about the process of unpacking. It lets us decide again if the things we’ve moved deserve a home or can move on. And it gifts us time to reimagine our spaces and processes.
Transition times can also help us notice what we need or are missing. It sounded like studio and creative time were at the top of your list. I can see you walking into your art studio, wearing your beautiful gray custom hat, and declaring time for yourself and your art supplies.
Ellen, this resonated with me so much. “Home was finally wherever I wanted it to be, or, wherever I was.” The idea that home isn’t really a place at all, but whatever, whoever, wherever resonates with us in that way. Thank you for your words!
When I read your sense of home Ellen I thought about how for the longest time all I wanted to do was leave home! Like you, I grew up in one house that my parents kept for over 60 years. All I could think about in High School was going away to a more exciting existence. I loved college in Oneonta New York and also learned to appreciate a little bit the stable home I grew up in.
I also found a home in the school district I worked in for 39 years, but after my first 7 years of teaching I thought there has to be more! Again I left home for Colorado. I was pursuing my Doctorate because that was an acceptable thing to run away for. I had no clue other than that a s to why I was doing it! Again I learned that I really missed home, the East Coast, my family and people who weren’T always “finding themselves”.
Your quote “wherever you go there you are” sure holds true for me. I now so appreciate the sense of home I have inside me. Thanks for bringing that to the forefront for me.
Even with all that I have been through in trying to connect to my home, I LOVE my home. It is a red brick cape cod in the middle of a block. Years ago, my husband and I nicknamed it The Five Star. From the moment we walked in it, we knew we wanted to live here. One of the first things we did was have a solid oak book case built for the living room. (We were both booksellers at a local independent bookstore when we met in 1994.) As soon as we saw this large wall we both knew exactly what we were going to do with it. Our most treasured books fill these shelves. It also, as you can tell by the picture, gets decorated for the holidays. Perfect for stockings, since we don’t have a fireplace.
We also have individual, personalized bookshelves. I love the small one pictured below. My sister gave it to me when I got my first apartment and it has traveled with me all over the city of Milwaukee, to Boulder and back, and to Macomb, IL and back. Its shelves contain my Thich Nhat Hanh books, my tarot decks, my runes, and various other books and talismans. This book shelf sits next to the small desk I sit at during our monthly meetings.
I have poetry books by my bed. Books by my writing desk in my office, two shelves alone dedicated to Ursula K. Le Guin. My home would not be MY home without books. In my home, I enjoy the day most when I sink into a chair with my feet on an ottoman and a book in my hands. The greatest thing about my home now, versus my childhood home, is that I’m never on edge here. I always feel safe and can allow my nervous system to settle; to quiet; so that I can be lost in the world of the story I am reading. This house, and the people I share it with, also encourage me to settle, to quiet, and to get lost in the worlds I write about. I’m suddenly so happy! I’m certain that is because I am home.
Constance- Looking at your wonderful photos and reading what you wrote made me feel safe, calm, and peaceful. How wonderful that the home you and your husband created makes you feel safe and settled. To live there without ever feeling “on edge,” as you did growing up, is remarkable. It’s a testament to growth and what you’ve manifested.
Your love of books resonates deeply with me. And how beautiful your main bookcase looks, all decorated out with twinkling lights and stockings for the holidays. It’s so warm and inviting. The house I grew up in was filled with books. Every room held a different category. My folks traveled the world and always brought home books (art books, biographies, novels, and more) from the places they visited. I caught my love of books from them.
Thank you for sharing photos of your prized books and bookcases. They anchor you, don’t they? By the way, Writing Down the Bones is one of my all-time favorites.
You’ve been through so much, and hearing you say that you grew up in a “haunted house” breaks my heart. On the other hand, your journey is one of strength and perseverance, and I deeply admire you for all you have accomplished despite it all. Your imagination, creativity, and ability to build your own reality are amazing.
I am happy that you are finally able to exorcise the ghosts and move into your own home in full presence. May you enjoy many moments of peace, comfort, and shared joy in your safe place.
Obsesses with your huge bookshelf Constance! Love that you and your husband knew exactly what you wanted as your first piece to make your house feel like home.
Constance, how beautiful! That book shelf is truly magnificent, and your description of your home made me feel warm fuzzies inside. Something about a home filled with books is so inviting… I strive to have shelves like yours!
My dream job is to own a bookstore with books on one side and an ice cream parlor on the other. How incredible that you and your husband both worked in Independent bookstores. My favorites!
When I moved to New Canaan Ct I knew instantly that the apartment was right because it had an entire living room wall of built in bookcases. I loved combining shelves of books, journals and then mixing in photos and treasures. There is something about being surrounded by books that makes you feel safe.
I love your personal shelf too.
When We built our new house in Delaware I made sure the living room had the bookshelf wall too.
When new books would arrive in the library I ran it was like Christmas morning. I just loved opening box after Box and pouring over the pages. Books and home – always synonymous to me.
I lived in the same house my entire life up until I went away to college and even after I graduated, I came back and lived in my childhood home for another couple of months. After that, I bounced around a lot with Tyler, trying to find our place in the world together. Throughout all that time though, any place that I was sleeping that night, I would refer to it as “home.” Like if we went on a family vacation and were staying at a hotel, at the end of the day I would say “I’m ready to go home,” but would fully mean the hotel so I could rest. In college, my dorm was home, both apartments I lived in were home, but I was always most excited for breaks so I could go “home.”
When we moved out to Buffalo, I would refer to our apartments as “home” too, but I knew in my heart Buffalo would never really be my home. I remember having a conversation with Yota while we were still living there about “the void” and how I felt like I was just floating there, waiting to find my place. And she told me that it’s possible to find comfort even in the void. To settle even in discomfort. And as I l et that set in over time, I realized that maybe home isn’t a place at all.
Home is a feeling. It’s safety. It’s warmth. It’s where I can be my “unmasked self.” So when I think about what makes me feel those things- it’s the people in my life. When I would be excited to go home when I was in college, I was excited to see all the people I missed while I was away. When I was excited to “go home” when we lived in Buffalo, I was excited to get back to Poughkeepsie and see everyone who made me feel safe. I looked so forward (and still do) to our monthly gatherings and Monday mornings (when I could make it) because no matter where I am physically, when I enter our shared space, I feel so safe. So, I realized that no matter where my physical house is, my home is my village. The people who support me and love me and make me feel safe.
Sarah- This is such a beautiful description of how your sense of home has developed and evolved. So insightful and beautiful. The idea of home being “the people who support and love me and make me feel safe” resonates deeply with me. Before I read your post, I added something else to this thread. It’s what I realized, too. My sense of home is rooted in the people I love – those here and gone.
Thank you for sharing your journey. I’m so happy that home is deeply rooted within for you, and you will carry it with you wherever you are.
It warms my heart to know that we, too, represent safe home to you. I can see that your people and your commitment to them and the safety you provide for each other are your constants, your North Star. They anchor you so that no matter where you may land for the time being, you never waver. You carry your beehive with you. Home is where love resides.
As I am rereading your post Sarah, I am realizing there are “homey” people, “homey” jobs and lots of physical spaces that may or may not feel like home. My beach in Hampton Bays feels like home, my good friend Ann feels like home. After I retired I worked for a year in North Salem and that library felt like home too. Then I tried a short term job in a Catholic School in Greenwich and it felt like Hell! I guess it has to be a combination of your inside and the environment clicking! I am lucky that most of the time I recognize that!
Yes our gathering group really does feel like my special Monday night home!
This video I made was for a recent blog post about gratitude. However, when I watched it again, I realized how closely this connects to my internal sense of ‘home.’
For context, I’m the youngest of three siblings (the goofy-looking baby). My grandparents, parents, aunts, and brother-in-law have all passed away. We have two daughters and many nieces and nephews on both sides of the family.
And while I’ve lived in several places, the only two I showed in the video were the house I grew up in (the barn red one) and our current home in the woods.
But as said, home for me transcends a physical place. It’s rooted mostly in the people I love.
Thank you so much for sharing this video, Linda! I love everything about it, especially the goofy-looking baby
One can feel the love and joy that has passed from generation to generation. I love watching the family expand as the years went by, and of course, seeing the aunties was a treat. What a beautiful tribe.
And, I have to say, I loved your take on the future … wide open vistas … looking out over the water and seeing nothing but clear skies.
OMG Linda, I’m obsessed with this video! I love that we share this idea that home is rooted in the people we love. Thank you so much for sharing! Your family is so beautiful!
Thanks so much for sharing this video. The love simply jumps off the screen. I so enjoyed seeing both the old and new photos. The one of you sitting on your Dad’s lap is beyond precious. Loved seeing your girls and hubby! Handsome Dude! I also thought the photo in front of the gray beach y type door was like a shot from the movie Grease. Aren’t you too cool! You are a Stockard Channing- Rizzo- look alike.
Beautiful way to mesh past, present and future. I
Linda, my heart!!! I loved everything about this movie, and honestly, it’s things like this that let me know I’m okay. I get so excited for people who have such wonderful, deeply rooted families. The sense of love, joy, and connection is palpable in these stills. I get a sense from these photos that everyone is leaning into the relationships and the people they love. Thank you for sharing!
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Kim Cartwright
I have had several places to call ‘home’. My childhood home, my college, the ‘places’ I lived during grad school, again- my childhood home, the homes we built for our family, the homes I’ve made for myself as a single person. These at first feel strange, temporary, unfamiliar. But in time they become my own, I get my flow, I can pace the steps from room-to-room, know the ‘sounds’. They become a place of comfort both a place to rest and a place to live life. A place to create and welcome, and a place to hide away.
I had the opportunity earlier this week to change my home. A well-let apartment on a lower floor of my building, with THE view of our little town center became vacant. My partner and I explored the possibility of splitting the higher rent and sharing the space. We walked through and talked about how to make this our home, fantasized about how we would jointly use the space creating nooks throughout to dine, to read, to create, to highlight our things, to capitalize on the view. We agreed to sleep on it and approach the landlord in the morning. I went to bed, unsettled. The space really didn’t feel right. I can reside anywhere, but I did not feel I could live there happily. The exposure of facing the green, of being on a lower floor with neighbors passing by in the hall, the mashed up overhead lighting, the amount of interrupted wall space, the overall layout, and most importantly the soul of the place were all wrong.
I recalled walking into my current space 2 1/2 years ago and it feeling RIGHT. I could work with this to create a home, it felt like ‘me’ . It felt like a place to rest and hide, a place to create and welcome, with the furniture and linens and plants and decorations that have accumulated and tell my story, my family’s story. Despite the broken downspout outside my window, the cold bedroom in the SW corner, and the noise of the village traffic, this space is not just a place to reside, but where I call home. [At least until my next big adventure!]
Linda Samuels
What a beautiful reflection about the homes you’ve lived in, your current home, and that sense of knowing when a place feels just right. Though it’s been a while, I remember when we were house-hunting. As we toured each home, I looked not only at the spaces but also at the feeling and energy the home exuded. The flow of the space, the natural light, and the images of what life would be like in this possible home. Nothing felt quite right until we walked into the home we live in. As you said, “it felt like me.” It felt like us.
At the same time, over the years, I’ve come to experience that home is a feeling I carry with me no matter where I go. When I left my childhood home at 17, the grounding and growing that I had in those formative years followed me wherever I went- to the college dorm, college apartment, NYC apartment, loft in Brooklyn, and then our home in the Hudson Valley. And in the different (very few) places I’ve lived, the idea of home kept expanding. While I recognize that I am able to create home wherever I go (visiting family, friends, staying in hotels, or airbnbs), I am very much grounded and anchored in our current home of almost 40 years.
Kathleen Lauterbach
Like you Kim, I have always had a physical reaction to places I’ve lived. I am pretty easy going about hanging out anywhere for a short time- vacation homes, camp grounds, friends homes and motels, but to truly be comfortable the home I live in every day has to have that physical feeling about it that I belong there.
So glad you said no to the apartment downstairs. I have lived with others and alone and both have significant perks. Easier to live alone but lonelier. Much more compromise when living with others but always joys to share. I find now as I am edging towards 76 I want someone else around to share meals and conversations with. So the space has to right for both of you or the compromise will be too much.
I am still ruminating over the scientific concept you spoke about last night. Fascinating for me to think about the space between. Seems like you are living it.
Yota Schneider
Dear Kim,
As I read your reflection and journeyed through the years with you, I sensed that you are one of these women who are well aware that they carry the essence of “home” within, no matter where their feet land for the moment.
Your body feels the energy of the place you enter and informs you. You pay attention, yet another gift you possess. As I read about the hesitancy you felt about the possibility of a new apartment, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was it just the energy of the apartment that made you hesitate? Is it possible that opening your refuge and sharing with another adds to the hesitation? Loving someone and enjoying their company does not mean you are ready to cross that threshold. You worked hard to regain your footing as a single person, and you are loving the “place to rest and hide, a place to create and welcome, with the furniture and linens and plants and decorations that have accumulated and tell my story, my family’s story.”
Maybe you need a bit longer in that place that is all your own.
Sarah Lipscomb
I love this idea of your current space just feeling RIGHT. I’m big believer that a space holds energy and sometimes it’s just not meant for us. Kudos to you for exploring another space that seemed like it’d feel right, but in the end you knew what felt more like home. Your twinkle lights will light the way no matter where you go!
Linda Samuels
I love being home! It’s not that I don’t like adventuring, but I appreciate the space Steve and I have created together over these last almost 40 years. It’s a uniquely Steve and Linda place. There’s nothing typical about it. But aside from what it looks like, the memories and energy it holds reverberate in the spaces. I remember feeling that positive energy when we first saw the house.
Love, creativity, closeness, family, and friends are ever-present. People both here and gone are with us. New traditions and old ones permeate our home. Music, quiet, lots of soft surfaces and textures, good smells, art, books, various collections, and lots of color.
Of course, it’s not been all happy, happy. We’ve had our share of struggles, illness, loss, and painful growth. And I know we’ll have more as time goes on. But our home and all the good feelings and experiences here help us like a ‘resilience blanket’ to navigate the more challenging times.
There are also spaces in need of culling. Because after all of these years of living, we have accumulated stuff. It’s an interesting thing how we gather and then depossess. Because you know, as they say, “You can’t take it with you.”
Your phrase about home is where we come at the end of the day to be our “unmasked selves” really hit me. I work from home, so I’m here all day. However, I have a day-to-evening ritual, which marks that transition. While there are many parts of the day I love, perhaps my end-of-day routine is one of my most treasured. It’s the bra off, pjs on time. I wash and moisturize my face, remove and put away the day’s clothes, change into my hot pink velvet slippers, and slip into the softest layers of relaxed wear. I exhale- a big exhale. There I am. My most me. No makeup, no socks, no bra to hold up the ‘girls.’ No expectation to work more. I give myself permission to be completely comfortable in the place I love most…home.
Kathleen Lauterbach
When I read your first sentence I chuckled because my friends have nicknamed me
“The Unibomber” because I can disappear in either of my houses and not come out for days. I simply love being in my cocoon.
I also so relate to the concept of being gathers in our adult life – through my fifties and then suddenly realizing it’s time to start getting rid of all the accumulated “stuff”. Having two homes right now heightens that feeling to the max.
Linda I love your positive outlook on life. It brings joy to me to be surrounded by your smile and your spirit at our monthly gathering. My partner, Babs, loves to get out of day clothes too. She calls it putting on her “ leisure suit”. You have added a new concept , pink fuzzy slippers – something to put under the tree for her!
Constance Malloy
Kim, spaces definitely have energy. I grew up in a haunted house, and I can always tell when I walk into a space if it is one of healing or disquiet. I’m so glad for you that you chose not to take the apartment. Onward ho, you go to welcome new adventures!
Constance Malloy
Linda, I loved everything about your post, but mostly it left me feeling like the author of it (you) seem quite content; and what a wonderful thing that is!
Yota Schneider
Dear Linda,
I love that the “uniquely Steve and Linda place” has gathered “all the good feelings and experiences” and built a “resilience blanket” to place around you when you need it. Isn’t that what a home should be?
A well-loved and lived-in home is a breathing, living old friend in whose presence we can rest and exhale for a while. It seems to me that your home is exactly that.
I love your evening ritual. It reminds me of when I was in corporate. I would get back from the long working days, and the first thing I would do after closing the door behind me and hugging the girls was to take off clothes, shoes, and makeup, put my laptop and phone away, and be home.
I wish you many more years of building warm and happy memories and sharing them with your loved ones.
Sarah Lipscomb
The phrase “home is where the heart is” has popped into my head several times while navigating this prompt and after reading your post, I absolutely vote we change it to “home is where the bra comes off.” The space we can be our most natural and relaxed.
Ellen Hanley
Ah, Linda, that evening ritual is perfection! I have always wanted a work-from-home job, because I also just love being home. My anti-corporate/anti-capitalism brain says “why do I have to travel away from my home, to spend so many hours a day, away from the space that I’ve worked so hard to create and in which I feel most comfortable?” I barely want to invite people over- I have to really trust and feel connected to people to *want* to have them in my home-space. I appreciate your mentioning of your ritual, because I think I need to hone my own rituals in more. They are not consistent, and I think that could be helpful in my current life/home space. The bra is absolutely always off at home though! No need for that societally-programmed nonsense at home
Kathleen Lauterbach
When I thought about the ground I stand on, I said to myself I need three legs! I stand on places of recognition where I feel a true sense of belonging in Long Island,
Connecticut and Delaware.
I grew up on Long Island- elementary, junior and senior high in the same school district. Close family and close friends! You have all heard many of my growing up adventures. Now Long Island is my Summer haven. I place to hang on the porch, float in the pool, walk on the beach and connect with a few of my nephews who live on the Island. It is the place that my partner in crime, Babs, loves the most. All her cousins live here. It is the place she feels the strongest connection to family and to her career.
Westchester and Southern Connecticut are the places I lived throughout my career. I had three significant homes – a tiny apartment we called Tatoo in Bedford Hills, a converted barn in Danbury with a huge forest field behind it where we learned how to live with bats, mice and frozen pipes, and an apartment in New Canaan that became everyone from my school’s go to spot! Close, meaningful and comfortable friendships thrived in all three of these homes . Annual cookie bake gatherings, scavenger hunt parties, game nights, sleep overs with my best buddies, planning sessions for school extravaganzas, snow shoveling and leaf raking group efforts, walks through the woods and stacking piles of wood burner wood.
Delaware is the new ground I walk on. A new bright yellow house with a big front porch is always welcoming. Delaware is the spot two of my siblings decided to settle. It’s our way of making sure we don’t lose the sense of family our parents instilled in us. We can see each other at a moments notice and have dinner together at least once a week. Everyone knows each other’s garage door codes and comes to the rescue when garbage needs to be taken out or a gas leak happens. We live in the “Hood” and there is something very supportive about waving to neighbors as they walk by and chatting about the latest neighborhood scandal.
But as David Whyte says, “Ground is what holds and supports us, but also what we cannot recognize or do not want to be true; it is what challenges us physically or psychologically, irrespective of our hoped for needs.” So what’s challenging about having these three legs is figuring out how long they can hold up! There are little nagging questions that pop up every once in a while. Some I don’t want to face.
Do my supportive siblings want to deal with supporting the aging process? I am not sure they want to take that on. Where do I want my final resting place to be? Buried on Long Island, creamated and sprinkled everywhere or becoming the new age compost! Why is it so hard to make new friends and will my close friends fade into the woodwork simply because of lack of proximity? Can I rekindle creative energy in a new spot, in a new way? When one or two of my three legs begins to wobble where do I want to be?
When I took a break from writing, I walked into the living room and saw a souvenir Babs Dad brought back to us from Ireland. It is a three-legged milking stool. Hand crafted and sturdy as can be. I have attached a photo of it. I hope that now with new knees I can be as sturdy as the stool and strong enough to stay grounded in who I am while I navigate both the visible and invisible terrain.
Ellen Hanley
Kathy, This is such a wonderful post. I love all of your questions toward the end, and then the three-legged green stool! It’s beautiful, and a perfectly placed symbol.
Constance Malloy
Kathy, Thank you so much for this beautiful piece of written memory and future ponderings. I feel I have been very lucky as of late to have several friends, who are older than I am, tackling the serious questions of aging and its oftentimes uncomfortable and unwanted practicalities. You are all guiding lights to me as I move into this last 1/4 of my life. Hopefully, it will be a very loooonnnngggg quarter. 🙂 I love your stool. What a great piece of Ireland to have with you, in whichever home you chose to rest it.
Yota Schneider
Dear Kathy,
What a wonderful, full life you have lived and continue to live. Always learning, always growing, and always asking the right questions. I can see how your most recent health adventure is bringing up some of these questions, and rightfully so. You may not want to tackle all the answers right away, but you are strong and smart enough to know they are there, waiting for you to be ready.
For now, your strong knees are keeping you grounded and safe. May they continue to do so. That lovely three-legged stool from Ireland was gifted to you at the right time. It traveled a long way to your living room. It’s slightly bruised and well-used but still standing strong, inspiring us all.
You’ve been a good friend to many, and many have been and continue to be your loyal and loving friends. Yes, it is not easy to make friends as we move around and grow older. The friends we make in our early years will always hold a piece of our history that no other can fully know and understand. That is why these early friends are precious.
Yet, people grow and change. Some people walk with us for a short time, others stay a bit longer, and the rare few stay for the duration of the journey. It is how it is. Doing “friendship” right also requires emotional and physical investment, something some people may or may not be able to always do.
I believe your creativity is calling to you. How you will choose to answer the call is entirely up to you. We’ll be here, cheering you on.
Linda Samuels
Kathy- How beautifully your image of the three-legged stool represents that grounding anchors in your life. I suspect that if one leg falters, the other two or one will be there to hold you up with strength. Because those legs aren’t just the places you’ve lived or ‘come from,’ but all of the people in your life you’ve nurtured, been connected to, and given so much.
I love the bravery that comes through in the questions you’re pondering. Not easy questions or responses. But knowing how thoughtful and determined you are, I know you will listen to your heart and mind and figure out what’s next.
Sarah Lipscomb
Kathy, your introspection at the end with your questions is so vulnerable. You’ve lived so much life in so many places, so it makes sense to feel like you’re held up by these different legs. Love the visual with the stool- green really is your color!
Kim Cartwright
Linda, I love that you shared your end of the day ritual. I too put the day away, groom and get cozy. Eric & I have recently added having a cup of tea together after work to share our day, before we dive into preparing our meals and whatever the evening brings. While hot pink will likely never be found in my closet, relaxed wear abounds!
Kathy, With or without new knees, I know you are as sturdy as the Irish stool and strong enough to stay grounded in who you are.
Ellen Hanley
Home, for most of my childhood and adolescence, was in one small Connecticut town, and one modest house, on “Hard Street.” In high school, my idea of home quickly shifted with my parents’ divorce. My idea of home was split in two. That was when I started to look inward for a sense of home. It was, unsurprisingly, a very shaky feeling, and I struggled to find the ground until I was well into my undergraduate studies, after attempting a drastic move to Brooklyn for school and promptly returning to Connecticut after one semester because I was painfully underprepared emotionally and academically for what a degree in Architecture would require. Although I had learned a lot in those days, I continued to search for myself, and the home within myself, through my twenties. My parents, in their separate homes and very separate lives, each still embodied part of my sense of home- their presence, their being, more so than their geographic location, were what made me feel comforted and ‘home’. In moving to North Carolina and returning to school for graduate work, I then truly found myself, through my studies and through connecting with people I had not realized I had yearned for, for my entire life. Through graduate school and 3 moves, I recognized the ground beneath me had firmed and expanded. It was no longer a balancing act between two halves of broken hearts; home was finally wherever I wanted it to be, or, wherever I was. Even now, after moving 3 times within 5 years with my husband, I can (albeit slowly) adjust and settle myself into a space even if it was not originally where I wanted to end up. The house is not my dream home, it is cookie-cutter. But we are making it ours, for now. Because as the saying goes, “wherever you go, there you are.”
Constance Malloy
Ellen, I read this and thought to myself, “No wonder she can’t unpack.” 3 moves in 5 years is taxing. On so many levels. Give yourself a huge break and much love around the fact that perhaps your body and your spirit is reluctant to unpack one more time. Perhaps, deep inside, you are already feeling yet another future move, hence, why unpack just to pack it all up again.
My parents divorced when I was 18, so I never delt with living in their now separate homes with everyone figuring out a new way of living in new spaces. It does seem a theme for you. It seems a wonderful theme for art. Fractured spaces, fractured people, all creating wholeness in new and imagined ways. I’m sending all my best thoughts your way. Your parting comment, “wherever you go, there you are” is so true on so many levels and planes of existence.
Yota Schneider
Dear Ellen,
Thank you for giving us a bird’s-eye view of the ground you’ve walked on, over the years. What strikes me is how you remained soft, gentle, loving, and curious in your search for self, home, and solid ground. And, you found each other. You found each other in your studies, community, friends, a partner, and the various homes you inhabited and infused with your sense of home and belonging.
I don’t think I have ever lived in my “dream home.” The life changes I’ve lived through have been radical and kept me searching for a long time. Belonging has been elusive. I learned through it all to create what I long for, no matter the shape or texture of where I land. Like you, I carry the sense of home within. It’s like a well-wrapped present that I place in the center of wherever I land. I slowly unwrap it and let it do its magic. I now know that I can create a home no matter where I live. The container does not matter. What matters is the love, care, and beauty it contains.
You are a quiet but mighty force of love and creativity. Pretty soon, the house you call home these days will begin to absorb and radiate back what you bring to it.
Linda Samuels
Ellen- There is strength and gentleness that comes through because of the challenges you’ve faced. Your ‘found poems’ are always poignant, deep, and surprising. As in, how did you find just the right words to turn into a word collage?
Moving three times in five years is a lot. Moving once in that time would have been a lot. It’s exhausting and disruptive. But as you’ve done before and will again, there’s something settling about the process of unpacking. It lets us decide again if the things we’ve moved deserve a home or can move on. And it gifts us time to reimagine our spaces and processes.
Transition times can also help us notice what we need or are missing. It sounded like studio and creative time were at the top of your list. I can see you walking into your art studio, wearing your beautiful gray custom hat, and declaring time for yourself and your art supplies.
Ellen Hanley
So true about transition times, Linda. Re-evauating the value of “things” is certainly arduous but so necessary… it feels like a constant process!
Sarah Lipscomb
Ellen, this resonated with me so much. “Home was finally wherever I wanted it to be, or, wherever I was.” The idea that home isn’t really a place at all, but whatever, whoever, wherever resonates with us in that way. Thank you for your words!
Kathleen Lauterbach
When I read your sense of home Ellen I thought about how for the longest time all I wanted to do was leave home! Like you, I grew up in one house that my parents kept for over 60 years. All I could think about in High School was going away to a more exciting existence. I loved college in Oneonta New York and also learned to appreciate a little bit the stable home I grew up in.
I also found a home in the school district I worked in for 39 years, but after my first 7 years of teaching I thought there has to be more! Again I left home for Colorado. I was pursuing my Doctorate because that was an acceptable thing to run away for. I had no clue other than that a s to why I was doing it! Again I learned that I really missed home, the East Coast, my family and people who weren’T always “finding themselves”.
Your quote “wherever you go there you are” sure holds true for me. I now so appreciate the sense of home I have inside me. Thanks for bringing that to the forefront for me.
Constance Malloy
Even with all that I have been through in trying to connect to my home, I LOVE my home. It is a red brick cape cod in the middle of a block. Years ago, my husband and I nicknamed it The Five Star. From the moment we walked in it, we knew we wanted to live here. One of the first things we did was have a solid oak book case built for the living room. (We were both booksellers at a local independent bookstore when we met in 1994.) As soon as we saw this large wall we both knew exactly what we were going to do with it. Our most treasured books fill these shelves. It also, as you can tell by the picture, gets decorated for the holidays. Perfect for stockings, since we don’t have a fireplace.
We also have individual, personalized bookshelves. I love the small one pictured below. My sister gave it to me when I got my first apartment and it has traveled with me all over the city of Milwaukee, to Boulder and back, and to Macomb, IL and back. Its shelves contain my Thich Nhat Hanh books, my tarot decks, my runes, and various other books and talismans. This book shelf sits next to the small desk I sit at during our monthly meetings.
I have poetry books by my bed. Books by my writing desk in my office, two shelves alone dedicated to Ursula K. Le Guin. My home would not be MY home without books. In my home, I enjoy the day most when I sink into a chair with my feet on an ottoman and a book in my hands. The greatest thing about my home now, versus my childhood home, is that I’m never on edge here. I always feel safe and can allow my nervous system to settle; to quiet; so that I can be lost in the world of the story I am reading. This house, and the people I share it with, also encourage me to settle, to quiet, and to get lost in the worlds I write about. I’m suddenly so happy! I’m certain that is because I am home.
Linda Samuels
Constance- Looking at your wonderful photos and reading what you wrote made me feel safe, calm, and peaceful. How wonderful that the home you and your husband created makes you feel safe and settled. To live there without ever feeling “on edge,” as you did growing up, is remarkable. It’s a testament to growth and what you’ve manifested.
Your love of books resonates deeply with me. And how beautiful your main bookcase looks, all decorated out with twinkling lights and stockings for the holidays. It’s so warm and inviting. The house I grew up in was filled with books. Every room held a different category. My folks traveled the world and always brought home books (art books, biographies, novels, and more) from the places they visited. I caught my love of books from them.
Yota Schneider
Dear Constance,
Thank you for sharing photos of your prized books and bookcases. They anchor you, don’t they? By the way, Writing Down the Bones is one of my all-time favorites.
You’ve been through so much, and hearing you say that you grew up in a “haunted house” breaks my heart. On the other hand, your journey is one of strength and perseverance, and I deeply admire you for all you have accomplished despite it all. Your imagination, creativity, and ability to build your own reality are amazing.
I am happy that you are finally able to exorcise the ghosts and move into your own home in full presence. May you enjoy many moments of peace, comfort, and shared joy in your safe place.
Sarah Lipscomb
Obsesses with your huge bookshelf Constance! Love that you and your husband knew exactly what you wanted as your first piece to make your house feel like home.
Ellen Hanley
Constance, how beautiful! That book shelf is truly magnificent, and your description of your home made me feel warm fuzzies inside. Something about a home filled with books is so inviting… I strive to have shelves like yours!
Kathleen Lauterbach
My dream job is to own a bookstore with books on one side and an ice cream parlor on the other. How incredible that you and your husband both worked in Independent bookstores. My favorites!
When I moved to New Canaan Ct I knew instantly that the apartment was right because it had an entire living room wall of built in bookcases. I loved combining shelves of books, journals and then mixing in photos and treasures. There is something about being surrounded by books that makes you feel safe.
I love your personal shelf too.
When We built our new house in Delaware I made sure the living room had the bookshelf wall too.
When new books would arrive in the library I ran it was like Christmas morning. I just loved opening box after Box and pouring over the pages. Books and home – always synonymous to me.
Constance Malloy
Second Picture. Dang! These are huge!
Sarah Lipscomb
I lived in the same house my entire life up until I went away to college and even after I graduated, I came back and lived in my childhood home for another couple of months. After that, I bounced around a lot with Tyler, trying to find our place in the world together. Throughout all that time though, any place that I was sleeping that night, I would refer to it as “home.” Like if we went on a family vacation and were staying at a hotel, at the end of the day I would say “I’m ready to go home,” but would fully mean the hotel so I could rest. In college, my dorm was home, both apartments I lived in were home, but I was always most excited for breaks so I could go “home.”
When we moved out to Buffalo, I would refer to our apartments as “home” too, but I knew in my heart Buffalo would never really be my home. I remember having a conversation with Yota while we were still living there about “the void” and how I felt like I was just floating there, waiting to find my place. And she told me that it’s possible to find comfort even in the void. To settle even in discomfort. And as I l et that set in over time, I realized that maybe home isn’t a place at all.
Home is a feeling. It’s safety. It’s warmth. It’s where I can be my “unmasked self.” So when I think about what makes me feel those things- it’s the people in my life. When I would be excited to go home when I was in college, I was excited to see all the people I missed while I was away. When I was excited to “go home” when we lived in Buffalo, I was excited to get back to Poughkeepsie and see everyone who made me feel safe. I looked so forward (and still do) to our monthly gatherings and Monday mornings (when I could make it) because no matter where I am physically, when I enter our shared space, I feel so safe. So, I realized that no matter where my physical house is, my home is my village. The people who support me and love me and make me feel safe.
Linda Samuels
Sarah- This is such a beautiful description of how your sense of home has developed and evolved. So insightful and beautiful. The idea of home being “the people who support and love me and make me feel safe” resonates deeply with me. Before I read your post, I added something else to this thread. It’s what I realized, too. My sense of home is rooted in the people I love – those here and gone.
Thank you for sharing your journey. I’m so happy that home is deeply rooted within for you, and you will carry it with you wherever you are.
Constance Malloy
Sarah, I have a sense your village is filled with a lot of beautiful souls!
Yota Schneider
Dear Sarah,
It warms my heart to know that we, too, represent safe home to you. I can see that your people and your commitment to them and the safety you provide for each other are your constants, your North Star. They anchor you so that no matter where you may land for the time being, you never waver. You carry your beehive with you. Home is where love resides.
May you never lose sight of that.
Kathleen Lauterbach
As I am rereading your post Sarah, I am realizing there are “homey” people, “homey” jobs and lots of physical spaces that may or may not feel like home. My beach in Hampton Bays feels like home, my good friend Ann feels like home. After I retired I worked for a year in North Salem and that library felt like home too. Then I tried a short term job in a Catholic School in Greenwich and it felt like Hell! I guess it has to be a combination of your inside and the environment clicking! I am lucky that most of the time I recognize that!
Yes our gathering group really does feel like my special Monday night home!
Linda Samuels
This video I made was for a recent blog post about gratitude. However, when I watched it again, I realized how closely this connects to my internal sense of ‘home.’
For context, I’m the youngest of three siblings (the goofy-looking baby). My grandparents, parents, aunts, and brother-in-law have all passed away. We have two daughters and many nieces and nephews on both sides of the family.
And while I’ve lived in several places, the only two I showed in the video were the house I grew up in (the barn red one) and our current home in the woods.
But as said, home for me transcends a physical place. It’s rooted mostly in the people I love.
Yota Schneider
Thank you so much for sharing this video, Linda! I love everything about it, especially the goofy-looking baby
One can feel the love and joy that has passed from generation to generation. I love watching the family expand as the years went by, and of course, seeing the aunties was a treat. What a beautiful tribe.
And, I have to say, I loved your take on the future … wide open vistas … looking out over the water and seeing nothing but clear skies.
Sarah Lipscomb
OMG Linda, I’m obsessed with this video! I love that we share this idea that home is rooted in the people we love. Thank you so much for sharing! Your family is so beautiful!
Kathleen Lauterbach
Thanks so much for sharing this video. The love simply jumps off the screen. I so enjoyed seeing both the old and new photos. The one of you sitting on your Dad’s lap is beyond precious. Loved seeing your girls and hubby! Handsome Dude! I also thought the photo in front of the gray beach y type door was like a shot from the movie Grease. Aren’t you too cool! You are a Stockard Channing- Rizzo- look alike.
Beautiful way to mesh past, present and future. I
Constance Malloy
Linda, my heart!!! I loved everything about this movie, and honestly, it’s things like this that let me know I’m okay. I get so excited for people who have such wonderful, deeply rooted families. The sense of love, joy, and connection is palpable in these stills. I get a sense from these photos that everyone is leaning into the relationships and the people they love. Thank you for sharing!