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20 May 2008

Where is home?

Wisteria Wisdom sits in places. - Keith Basso

I love what Beth is doing over at Virtual Tea House. And now a writing contest - or, better yet, a writing exercise focused on one question:

Where is home?

From her post: "It is about a sense of place, and a feeling of safety or comfort.  It can be a wild and harsh place, like the edge of a desert canyon, or a more yielding place like a mountain meadow or stream. Or it can be people-related, like your grandmother's garden, your sewing room or your father's workshop."

Where is home to you?

Let's all write 750 words about it and send them to Beth.

[image of my backyard when Spring springs]

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Home is the place where you 'belong'. Further elaboration to come :-)

That's YOUR backyard?? Okay, I'll try not to hate you. ;)

Dave - you made me smile. I'll await your further elaboration with great interest.

Marilyn - don't get too excited. these are the only things that lived after we got a hold of the yard!

My definition of home has changed with the more I work with those who have none.

On my walk to school I would pass a small high octagon window in a ramshackle housethat was broken into small college apartments. Hanging in that window was a conch shell framed in stained glass. It was what I searched for with my eyes each morning in my walk and for some reason it sang of home to me. A home where the ocean was celebrated and the sun catching color while streaming through the window would be appreciated.
I searched high and low for my own conch shell surrounded by glass...but alas I am landlocked and it was not easily found. One fine Art Festival weekend, while browsing stalls with my friends I let out a war whoop at the sight of a booth with conch shell suncatchers hanging from the rafters.
I ran to the booth and hugged the little canadian man who with his dear sweet hands made my symbol of home.
My conch shell suncatcher hangs in my front window where ever I live. It is home to me and speaks to the world that here lives someone who celebrates the ocean and appreciates sun catching color as it streams through a window.

home to me is the smell of my cat's breath, the hearty licks of my dog, the smell of my husband after doing his pit fire in the back yard surprisingly enough, the precious twinkle in his blue blue eyes, the older man with nicotine stained fingers and ragged clothes exenting his hand to me with a big toothless grin and the gratituded we feel for being their in that moment together at our shared mental health center, my best friends ball cap she wears all the time with all sorts of buttons on it-my fave a rainbow pride button, clean sheets mixed in a combo of thrift store 50's prints. even my husbands speed stick scent that i have complained about for 14 years. actually we have a phrase i came up with "it feels like home". when i find something out there in our universe that is comfortable and safe... i say "it feels like home". "if feels like home" could be an impulse purchase of a very soft sweater. a granny square (torn up and well worn) afghan, thrift. my fave, which is difficult to pick.. really really difficult to pick is my pink comforter my mother and i purchased thru JC penny's catalog in 1987 for my first dorm room at stephens college. my new texas girly roomate wanted matching comforters and i agreed over hand written letters, i wanted her to like me and weirdly enough later she asked me to be in her wedding. she taught me the power of pink. my mother was very suprised i agreed to buy pink, cuz i was a all black goth? kinda girl. i have learned so so much about my love of pink. the above pic, "feels like home".

BTW, patti... is that really your backyard. cuz girl.... i am flabergasib... or someword i can't even make up/pronouce or find for it. besides HOME. i just love your backyard. do you guys ever pitch a tent out there and have clubhouse parties? eat tasty cakes... tea parties... it is just the lovliest yard i have seen. not too perfect, just right.. ya know. Amy

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