It has been a long time but here I am. I crossed the bridge, literally, and found my way back home. Home, a place I want to be. I am not sure one appreciates one’s home until it is gone. For me, suitcase living is okay for a bit but holy moly, country road, take me home. Please. You gotta love that John Denver tune as he belts out the words on his old guitar. I feel for those who have lost their home, whether by tragedy, natural or from the injustices of the hands of man; or those unexpected circumstances beyond one’s knowing like my mom now in a nursing home; or for those in our communities who find themselves homeless. I get it in a wee small way of what that could mean and I pray for all who wander to find a pillow to lay their weary head.
It brings me back to a memory of a school assembly I attended. I taught at Sacred Heart Catholic Elementary and it was a gathering of students, staff and some parents in the gymnasium during the beginning of Lent where we listened to the keynote speaker, Murray Dryden whose father was Ken Dryden the hockey player, He stood before us talking of this non-profit organization he was involved with Sleeping Children Around the World, an organization that fundraises to buy sleeping kits for children in third world countries. Kits that contain a bed roll/mattress, hygiene stuff, clothing, and school supplies.
The way he weaved one of his many stories and accounts of the joy brought to so many children as he and his team personally delivered these bed kits to those children, conveying to us, his audience, that not all children have a place to lay their head at night. I can still see the visual image he showed of one young boy, receiving his bed kit. He unrolls it right there and then, falls upon it in the middle of a dirt path lane and wraps himself up under the bedding. Can you imagine! No. I do not know what that is like. And in that regard, I am so very grateful and thankful to be able to have a space and place to call my own.
You do not realize the comfy (or maybe not) of one’s bed. LOL. I love it. Aahh. So here I find myself back home amongst all that is familiar. Goodness, I miss my space. All of my senses are on high alert. I think I must be part dog hound as I poked my head in and around and under and over wherever, checking to see if its all good. Whew! Smells like Bounce sheets and moth balls. Yep. Ah the aroma of Peppy Le Pew! Laundry and Mr. Clean, hear me roar!
I pray no one takes offence like my youngest granddaughter, daughters, parents, siblings, relatives or friends but yippee do dah and colour me happy….it is Tony the Tiger Grrrreat! I think the biggest thing for me is I can tinker and putter and do whatever in and to my own home. When I visit, I do not like to remain idle for too long. But I can’t just get into their cupboards or take their mop or start to reorganize (so close to purging – oops) their things without stepping on toes. Oh yes eldest daughter, I know you let me. Thanks. But I do realize even at her place, it is not mine to do that to. Of course, if you want to grab a broom or vacuum or dish cloth at my place, go for it. Nah. It’s all good.
I enjoy the physical aspect of cleaning. It does not require much thought, just dig in. Purging is my mantra. It really is true about what they say of spring. Refresh, renew, revitalize. I mean the stuff one accumulates over a period of a year or many years. Well if you have not used it, opened it, dusted it off then maybe it is time to close your eyes and pitch it. Yep. But for goodness sake, don’t be going down memory lane when you come across that old yearbook or that hole-ridden university sweatshirt that does not fit anyway. What are you doing!!! Aha. And don’t think reshuffling stuff and making it look organized in the closet (which is kind of smart thinking) is getting rid of stuff. Or the trick of maybe moving stuff from closet to the coffee table and then take a nap. LOL. I know. I know. Spring cleaning never killed anybody so do not say “why take the chance”? This is not a roundtoit thing. Just do it. Haha. FYI. I am not too thrilled about seeing little droppings in the recycling bin area just outside on my deck. Little devils. Hmmmm. It looks like mice doo doos. Yikes! But no sightings inside my home. Thank the Lord for small mercies.
Anyway, home sweet home. I’m here. Delighted and ready for the welcome mat of my own making. Yep. Painting needs to happen. Cleaning the shed out. Dump run. And yard work. I wish my mom and dad gave me their green thumb. Oh well. My granddaughter wants pink flowers and by golly I am going to grow them with her. Well maybe try. She will never know if I get the pink plants already grown and put them in once I realize my green thumb is more brown in nature. Which reminds me I need grass seed for the lawn and fertilizer. And did I say the garden needs a bit of TLC. Ummm. I think I need to go to the experts…Pinterest. Or maybe Youtube. Oops, I forgot that I may need to look at lane as the ruts are kind of deep on my clay drive. Not sure tractor dragging will level it out. Did I say that being home is great? Yes, I did.
Stepping out on the deck, smelling the fresh air, seeing the clothes whipping around on the clothes line, and hearing the subtle quiet brrr of the wind, I’m home. The birds are really nattering and having a hey day on the lawn right now. I have not even put the seed out as the snow just left yesterday after the rain and lawn rolled. Woohoo.
So today I begin another day, doing my home. What do I get to do next? Who knows but it is home sweet home. And even more so the land and sea close too. The familiar of it all. Gratefully, I already took a walk down to the water and up along the red cliffs, taking in the wide expanse of sea before my eyes. The waves crashing in to the shore while the sun heralds its rays across the waves, cliffs, fields and the old worn tractor trail had me pause. I noticed that the rocky shore has taken a beating over the winter especially after the ferociousness of Hurricane Fiona last fall as well. The rocky shore is really rocky now, shifting some of the huge boulders to a different position. Beach is lined with rock more than sand. Wow! And the trek on the rocks to climb the side of the cliff to get to top and continue my walk. Well it has changed greatly. Huge boulders that I had to leap from one to another have been shifted. Why I know that, I am not sure. I guess it is like home, familiar; the nuances of space and place.
It’s home. Blessings.
Let us pray for those who are in need of prayers and for those who look to find a place for their weary head to rest. Amen.
Karenpondering 