The Nestbuilder

A few weeks ago I talked about being incensed over the professional title “Homemaker” on my hospital record.  I ended, reflecting that perhaps making a house into a home is not such a bad thing.  Now, as I am nearing completion of that task, I think it might just be where my life leads me right now.  This period of spending more time at home has led me to think that we need to be intentional about creating a special space for ourselves, a space that welcomes and nurtures. Our home, as a whole, needs to comfort and support, but additionally, everyone needs to have that spot where they can escape into a book, visit with a friend, watch TV or just look out of the window.

Yesterday we bought a new rug for under the kitchen table.  This replaces that last vestige of the “other life” that Gary lived here when he and his former wife were raising their sons, where he lived alone for the eight years before I came on the scene.  The robin’s egg blue is out. 

The green, rust and cream is in. 

It is a very different look and it is “us.”  Amazingly, we seem to always find one or two things that one of us loves and the other doesn’t, and then suddenly we’ll both say, “That’s it!” and stumble onto the perfect thing.  This rug was “it.”  It is the last thing that turns the house into our home.

It is central to have home be that place where we feel the balance of comfort, practicality and beauty.   For me, a nest builder, it has to reflect who I am and how I use the space.  It has to reflect who Gary and I are as a couple and work for both of us.  We put our feet up, eat in the family room, don’t always take off our shoes when we come in the door.  We live in this house and it has to stand up to that.

One of my favorite quotes is attributed to William Morris from the late 1800s, “Keep only those things you find beautiful or useful.”  For those of us who are facing a difficult diagnosis or other challenges in our lives, this comment makes even more sense.  We need to simplify and weed out those things that are extraneous.  A simpler life gives us more time to enjoy those things that are really important.  Surround yourself with what you love, when your eye lights on an object, it will it will remind you of a friend, a special time, your family.  Make your memories come alive as your eye moves about the rooms and light on your grandmother’s crystal bowl or a picture you bought on your last vacation.  An artist friend once gave me great advice, “Don’t buy something because it “matches,” buy it if you love it. It will work and will bring you much more pleasure.” 

The house feels different.  It feels complete, and it belongs to us.  That brings me comfort and as I look forward to spending time here as I cope with the side effects of the chemo and avoid the germ laden public, I am delighted to be in a place that makes me happy, that reminds me of the world I am a part of, and that I love. 

My advice: In addition to loving your home, I think everyone should have that special little nook that is your haven, that everyone create a space within the home that is an extension of what is loved.  That it contains memories and reminds you of dreams.  That it is the one place you want to curl up with someone you care about or by yourself with that great book and a glass of wine.  For me, it means having the best view from the window.  It means a comfy couch, warm afghan nearby, telephone close at hand.  But it also includes a picture painted by a friend, music playing in the background if I choose, memories of travel and family as I glance around the room.  It is the place where I sometimes meditate, where I might escape, a spot just for me.  Think of giving yourself that gift.