My First Home Wasn’t Cozy
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My first home after high school wasn’t cozy. It was a $900 trailer built in the sixties, with two small bedrooms. That trailer was rundown and needed a lot of work.
But it was home for my daughter and me, a place to wait out the storms of life, and a version of a soft place to land.
I had a one-year-old and attended junior college. When I picked Kendra up from daycare, I drove to a home where I babysat two young boys while their parents worked.
The oldest boy was 6, and the youngest was just a little older than Kendra was at that time. So I was dealing with two kids in diapers.
No Time & Less Money:
The trailer home we lived in would remain rundown because I had no time and even less money. But it was a place to live and keep the so-called wolves at bay.
Someone gave me an old gold couch, and it was butt ugly. I recall moving that horrid couch all around the small living space. But nothing I did improved its looks. It was too far gone.
You can’t do much with a piece of furniture that is “butt ugly.” However, that was my first decorating experience, and a seed was planted.
Still, I dusted and cleaned as if it were a mansion instead of a decrepit, sad little trailer home, because it was home to me and my baby daughter.
Then I Got Married:
At the junior college I attended, I was to meet the man I first married. He was my psychology instructor. I chose him more as “daddy material” than as a husband for me. My daughter wasn’t going to go through life without a father, as I had.
Not going to happen, I promised myself.
There were 13 years between our ages, so we didn’t have much in common. We divorced when Kendra was 11 and Kasi was 7. Kendra took it very hard.
When he and I got together, the three of us lived in his house in Norman, Oklahoma. It was a simple, small three-bedroom tract house, about a thousand square feet in size.
I moved the furniture around all the time. And I decorated as best I could with house plants and items I found at garage sales.
Then I gave birth to my second daughter, Kasi. My husband had adopted Kendra soon after we were married. She was a toddler and the apple of his eye. Our second daughter rounded out the family to four.
We were to move three times during our 8-year marriage.
Learning to Decorate:
All this to say that I’ve been decorating since I had any place to decorate. Even when it was a sad little trailer or a 1000 square foot tract house, the decorating bug had bitten me. I bought cheap magazines at the grocery store to look for new ideas for our home.
The four of us lived in a cul-de-sac with other young mothers living around us. We young women taught each other a lot back then.
We took turns making Kool-Aid for the kids to drink and let them run loose in one another’s yards. Sometimes there were cookies to hand out.
My Very First Home:
My first home never wrapped me in the comfort I hoped for. Instead of feeling like a safe retreat, it always seemed a little cold and unwelcoming. I remember walking through the front door after school and feeling the emptiness settle around me.
The walls were too bare, and the rooms never seemed to hold warmth. Nothing brought into that house ever quite fit, as if the space was reminding me I didn’t belong there. At night, the silence felt heavy, almost lonely.
The furniture was minimal, more functional than inviting, and every sound echoed, reminding me of how hollow the space really was. Even when the heater hummed in the winter, the house never seemed to hold warmth. It was as though it resisted the idea of coziness altogether. It was a place to live, but not a place to feel at home.
I never had my own bedroom growing up. In fact, I slept with my grandmother because there wasn’t an extra bed for me to sleep in. Growing up, I resented that. It was a house where I lived, but it never felt like home, and I carried that ache with me every day.
A Friend With A Perfect House:
My childhood friend lived in a big two-story house. She had a frilly canopy bed in a beautiful upstairs bedroom with trees outside her window. I was so jealous of her good fortune, because I knew I would never have anything like that.
Her mother carted the three sisters around in a white Chevrolet station wagon. And sometimes they asked me to go with them. We didn’t have a car, so it was a luxury to be in theirs. To stick my head out the window and feel the wind blowing against my face.
Then they would drop me off at my house, and I would feel dread creeping up my spine. It never felt like home to me.
We moved when I was in grade school. The second home I lived in was a stucco house with one bedroom. It was smaller than my first home, but a bit more drab and colorless. It all felt very sad.
The Best Definition of a Home:
A home is more than walls and floors and a roof over your head. It’s more than just a place to take shelter. Your home should be full of love and laughter, and always feel cozy.
A home should reflect who you are because it’s more than just a place to live—it’s the backdrop to your life. Your personality should shine from every surface.
The colors you choose, the objects you keep, and the way you arrange each space tell a story about your personality, your values, and your journey.
When a home mirrors who you are, it feels grounding and authentic, wrapping you in comfort that goes deeper than aesthetics. It becomes a space that greets you with familiarity at the end of the day and reminds you of what matters most.
Without those personal touches, a house can feel empty and hollow. But when it carries your spirit, it transforms into a true sanctuary.
Antique Mall Shopping:
I love cozy little spaces with candles burning, light beaming through the windows, and food simmering on the stove.
I’m what you’d call a homebody through and through. It’s as much a part of who I am as if it were in my genetic predisposition. Because home is much more than a dwelling to me, or even a port in the storm.
I am most happy strolling the dusty aisles of antique malls, sorting through treasures that I can visualize in my home.
My heart sings when I’m in colorful surroundings. Too much white, beige, and gray reminds me of coloring books that have never had a crayon touch them.
I love to repurpose, to think outside the proverbial box, to visualize something not as it was meant to be, but what I can make of it. No matter where I’ve put down roots in life, my home was always a place I decorated with love.
Maybe my first home wasn’t what I wanted it to be, and it was never cozy. But every house I’ve lived in since then has been comfy and warm. And I guess that’s what truly matters.
Home = happy and cozy place to return to every day <3
I have a few old, rather beat up pieces of furniture that make my house seem like home. There is the old oak dining table from the 1940s that originally was my great-grandmother's; a pine nightstand that was my brother's when he was a boy in the early 1960s; and an old cedar wardrobe, maybe from the 1930s, that my husband got from a relative years ago. We've moved a number of times, some other furniture has come and gone, but those three pieces always wind up in a spot where they are used constantly. We are getting ready to move again, and we've already talked about where to put the wardrobe and the dining table. The nightstand gets bumped around — sometimes it gets to be a nightstand, but right now it's being used as an end table in the living room. I like it in the living room because I seem to get to look at it more. Those three pieces almost seem like members of the family and give the house a cozy, secure feeling.
It's my safe place.
I can so identify with you- I have no idea where my incentive to decorate and 'nest' came from-certainly not the farm where I grew up. I think it started when I visited friends/relatives' homes and felt 'at home' there.
Thank you for the wonderful post. I always relate to you on many levels. xo Diana
What lovely thoughts, Brenda. I've always loved your creative vision and use of bright colors. I don't really know where I first got the design "bug" either. My childhood home was pretty average for its time. But I got my degree in Interior Design and have loved it ever since.
Home to me is where I hide to get away from the world's crazy. I have a corner of my reclining Lazy Boy sofa where I snuggle into when I've had enough of everything else. It is my safe, warm, happy spot. Sometimes I read, sometimes I just stare at my lovely den or out the front window at my beautifully blooming crape myrtle, or neighbors getting their daily walk in. And wonder where they get the desire or energy 😉 And it's a place to enjoy decorating – so many ideas when I discovered blogs and learned so much about making my house a more beautiful home.
Maybe you love to decorate yours so much because you grew up in a less-decorated house – plus admit it, you're an artist (writing, decorating, flowering). And artists have to be surrounded by beauty.
Mary
I enjoy your writing and I have subscribed to your blog. Home to me is where you hang your heart.
Jeanne
I truly do believe the urge to nest and garden is in my DNA as well! I have loved to decorate ever since I can remember. Even at home as a little girl I was always moving furniture in my room around, adding new items and switching up the theme. Altho I have tried different styles through the years(Southwestern, Gypsy/Boho, I always come back to the romantic, pastel, floral, chippy – I guess you would call it shabby = style. That is what makes my heart sing. Thrift store and yard sale finds and repurposing are my passion!
My home is definitely my haven and nest, too. I'm very much a homebody. Like you, decorating has always been in my blood – and I also love color!
I've always enjoy your posts. My feelings about my home are very similar to yours. The first thing I purchased (with green stamps) when I got engaged in 1967 was a room divider with shelves. My mother and father were hysterical since I'd had the same room since I was 3 years old and it was way too small to divide. I had returned to my parents house after collage and was still sharing the same small room with my sister. My side of the room was crammed with art projects, design inspiration for my future house and garden, recipes, etc. I was always rearranging the furniture in my half of room and working on something. Even now after 48 years, I still feel wonderful when I return home – where ever that happens to be at the time. We've moved 8 times and I could do it a few more times just to have a new place to decorate.
My feeling of home is the same as you… exactly. Home is my haven.. my safe place, my nest. I'm a true homebody and always have been. I love making it cozy and comfy. I always wanted a "cozy little cottage".. never dreamed of a big fancy house like most girls did! I liked small and still do. yes.. I do have more "stuff" now and it's hard to squeeze in my small spaces, but I still love it. I don't like leaving home for to long and always SO GLAD to get back to my comfort and sweet place, filled with my sentimental things and favorite things I've gathered over the years. I don't move around my furniture or stuff very much… once I find a spot for it, it usually stays there for quite a long time, until I bring home another treasure and have to somehow squeeze it in and then I have to move stuff around to make room for the new guest! Yes.. I love cozy.. always have and always will. I love pastels mostly and not alot of bright colors, but do love color!
Even though I would love going new places and seeing new things…home is always best!
You and I are truly kindred spirits. My first home as an adult (19 years old) was a small apartment above a pizza place on a main street in suburbia, USA. I nested my little heart out in that apartment, buying pieces from the Salvation Army and dragging them home and painting them to give them new life. I bought a used sofa from the classifieds, and brought home half dead plants from the clearance table at the local home improvement store and the supermarket. I painted the walls, ceilings….I hung hand me down curtains…and I put down a new floor in the bathroom. And then I learned to cook, and I hosted dinner parties at my tiny kitchen table. There were always candles, and soft music, and good friends coming and going. Some of my furniture may be nicer now, but the feeling is still the same – home is the best place on earth. xo
Brenda, I cannot believe how much we have in common! My first home was a camp trailer. Later I lived in a duplex and painted the walls and did a lot of "decorating." The urge to make a home has always been with me. That and organizing things. I want everything to have its proper place and to be kept there.
When I move, (and I have moved a lot,) I have to unpack everything right away, and do not rest until it is done. As I unpack, I stack all my wall art and decor pieces on the dining table. It is my "reward" once I am completely unpacked, to then decide where the decor and art should be placed. Once that is done I feel like the house has become a home.
Home is where the heart is… Don and I are both big homebodies, too. Would rather be home than anywhere else! Maybe that is genetic, cousin!
That's so funny as my first home was a small trailer. Husband was based on an island in Washington and I remember doing arts/crafts all the time. There was no room to move anything. I love your writings, makes me feel I'm there with you as you describe things.
Love your cozy house and I am like that too-homebody!
My home is my haven from the world. It is where my life story unfolds. I wish I had a fraction of your decorating ability, but sadly, I do not. Therefore, your blog is where I get my decorating inspiration…
Dayle is right, Brenda…you do have quite the knack ! A very nice cozy post! 🙂
Brenda your home is such a "cozy little house". So charming and pretty. I too am a home body and see my home as more than a dwelling. It is a sanctuary for feeling rested and at peace.
Kris
Your home tells a story. Perhaps that is what you were trying to tell from the beginning. Hugs
We have the same thoughts on decorating. I like some of the pictures that I see where people have contractor white through out their homes. But, I could not live there! I have to have color all around me & things that make a home cozy. They are the same as your list this morning. I don't care if I leave my home either. We have a small bungalow, small yard & I am very happy.
Fabulous post. I adore how descriptive you are with your decorating identity. I had to chuckle about the first home. Mine was a 1948 Vagabond camper. Married at 19, and my husband was in the US Coast Guard and away at stations. I stayed in our hometown for work and college. I dragged a twin bed into that small living space and chopped off the legs from one side of it to fit on a ledge in the back of the camper. I ripped out a wall from the kitchen and original bedroom/living area to open it up. No matter what I did, I had to continue to improve it. Eventually, having a newborn son sent us to move into a real home. Haha~ Growing pains!
You have such a knack for decorating, Brenda. It's very inspiring.
Thank you for sharing a beautiful story about what makes you tick. Some people never figure that out, just drift along and don't discover (or acknowledge) their passion in life. P.S. I left a few small zucchini and a dozen eggs in your refrigerator. There is a basket of lovely fresh tomatoes on your counter. ha!
I am a homebody also and love to move and redecorate by moving even the smallest item to a new location in the house. Home is where I nurture myself as well as my family. It is indeed more than a roof and four walls to me. It is my little nest. ?