If you’re a woman, and possibly a man as well, a house is where you hang your apron. It is where you eat meals and sleep and make decisions. It is where you spend your time.
Most of all it’s where you will never be turned away.
I don’t live in a fancy house. I rent a home and it’s not at all fancy. So you won’t see these dressed to the nines posts from me that’s all glitter and gold.
I’m not one of those bloggers. And I doubt I would be even if I had the money. Just not me I guess.
I come from very humble beginnings. We were poor. We didn’t have a car.
My grandmother and great-grandmother and I walked to the grocery store in town and walked back home. Seemed like the paper sacks got heavier with every step.
But we had one hell of a garden. We ate well. Blackberry cobblers. Fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and onions and potatoes. My favorite meal that I still look back fondly on was pinto beans, fried potatoes, corned bread, and iced tea.
We didn’t go to restaurants. Not that there were more than a couple in that small town to go to anyway.
I was on my own at an early age.
I’ve Made Mistakes:
I’ll be the first one to tell you that I’ve made lots of mistakes. The greatest tragedy is that I got married three times.
Try as I might, I never did get it right. I don’t have the desire to try anymore. I just want my peace and my dogs and my little blue house.
If I had my life to do over again, I’d have become of two things. I’d either major in library science instead of journalism. Or I’d have become a nature photographer.
Since I have Asperger’s and don’t like to be around people, I would probably have headed for the hills and become a nature photographer.
No Fancy Houses Here:
In terms of this blog, if you want to find grandeur and read about fancy houses, I’m sorry, you’re in the wrong place.
I’ve lived in fancy houses. And those fancy houses, I can promise you, don’t make you happy. Modest ones don’t either. Houses are simply where you hang your apron.
I suppose you could say in some ways that I’ve been to hell and back. The kind of hell that being married and miserable brings.
Maybe it’s just the feeling of being trapped, and you either chew off your foot or die trying.
I can’t blame a whole bunch of other people. It is what it is. Other women have done the same thing and lived to tell the tale, just as I have.
Those I Love:
I have two daughters who I love dearly. And two precious grandchildren. I started young and didn’t know beans about mothering. I also wasn’t blessed with one of my own to teach me.
And I love the spoiled and sometimes ornery pupsters. Sometimes they’re as silly and aggravating as the day is long. But they’re the best companions a woman could have just the same.
I don’t go to stores and buy new things to show you. But I will admit I did once. I think I was mostly trying to fill the emptiness I felt within.
But I sold the bulk of those shiny things before I moved here. Because I needed the money to relocate more. I don’t miss them.
What is important has a beating heart. No matter how hard you try, you can’t breathe life into “things.”
Please understand. I don’t begrudge people their beautiful and expensive things. Because I once had them too. In the end, I was more than happy to trade them in on another life.
A new lease on life.
What I Have Learned:
That old saying is true. Money can’t buy you love. Or loyalty or happiness.
There is nothing worse than to be in the room with the person you married and feel more lonely than you ever have in your life.
Learning that did make me feel humble. I felt that I’d failed. And that thought trailed me for a while. Still bothers me sometimes that I just couldn’t get it right.
I have regrets. Who doesn’t?
But home is where you hang your apron. Never forget that. So create a home that you love.