This picture probably was not taken near Christmas...but it's a snowy picture, so it's allowed in my "Christmas Series." (because I said so, that's why)This is the house I grew up in. There's the old blue station wagon...which gives us a clue as to when it was taken. Late 60's is my guess. But really, it doesn't look all that different from how it often looked in winter during all my growing up years...(until I was in about 11th grade when my parents decided to make it a light brown house). This is home. It evoked all sorts of sentimental memories for me. I've been thinking a lot about this lately.
Home is powerful. It is where I felt the most nurturing and a place of love and safetly. I feel thankful for the home I grew up in. As Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz, "There's no place like home."
Anyway...I thought it would be fun to hear what "home" was for you and one of it's best memories.
Ok. I go first. One of my best memories was sitting on my father's lap. He would be sitting in his favorite rocking chair in the living room and I would climb up onto his lap. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time just to do that once again. Eventually I got too big to do that.This is a pathetic picture of me and Tigger with Dad in about 1976. Martha and I shared a bedroom. I wasn't sitting on his lap...but it's the best I can do.
Ok...so let's hear from you now.
7 comments:
The longest I have ever lived anywhere was 8 years. So I am not really attached to a house. Spent a lot of time at my outlaws family farm. That feels like home.
That is a lot of snow!
My childhood home looked a lot like yours, actually. When I see that picture, it reminds me of my brother and I playing in our front yard, or in the runoff ditches along the road - there were salamanders to be found, dams to build, adventures to be had.
Sitting on my dad's lap was a comfortable place for me too. My father smoked a pipe when I was a little girl and I remember his pipe filling ritual - filling the bowl, tamping it down, lighting it with a match, puffing several times. The grand finale was me getting to blow out the match! Very exciting!
I loved it when dad would read us bedtime stories. He always had a lot of expression in his voice when he read. I can still hear him reading "Winken, Blinken, and Nod". I also remember hearing him pray in a whisper in the patio room when he was having his devotions. It gave me such a secure feeling.
Mom was great with all of her kisses and "I love you's". I don't think a day ever passed without these things. I liked it when she took walks with me around the block, and we looked at the houses together to see what people had done to them, or just talked. Ahhh, home....!
Home... I can close my eyes and feel the car turn onto Pontiac Street, go around all the right corners and pull up into the driveway. There was always something comforting even in that; after a visit to Grandma's, a camping trip, or a long vacation it signaled the return to home.
I too remember crawling up onto Dad's lap or snuggling close to Mom. Safety, security, and love. There was never really a question.
That little house has always been home and, I think, it always will be. When I'm 60 years old I'll drive past and think of all those happy times and deep inside it will still be home.
Greetings from Germany! I am sitting in my childhood home right now ! You are right, home feels always like home. I lived in this house for 14 years. I also have happy childhood memories. We were 5 girls and we were always allowed to bring our friends! It was very lively!! And sometimes messy. Things are different now, but still, it is good to be home!
I think i will blog it, is that okay, It would be to long on this.
;P
Priscilla you make me cry.
My dad would never allow us kids to sit on his lap.We couldn't touch him basically.
But we have other good memories -my mom would take us on her lap and comfort us.And we always had magical christmasses with beautiful trees.Times were so different anyway.
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