Oh dear Ellen, I am not at all surprised you and I have this commonality! I love what you share about your current home and what it means to you, as well as your past apartment. Wonderful thoughts about the centrality of home in literature and philosophy. Indeed, we are not the only ones who feel this way!
I'm looking forward to reading your blog. And good news! You are already a paid subscriber. These essays will already be available to you. I'm so thankful for your presence in this space.
I just counted, and I have had 13 addresses in my life! My first one I lived at until I was one and a half, but my first memory occurred in that house. I associate each one of those dwellings with different major life and world events. Thinking and writing about houses is a rich way to explore what shapes us. Wishing you the best with sharing this project!
Thank you, Tania! Isn't it satisfying to think of all our homes and what they've meant? Now I wonder what type of form poem would best house a walk-through of our former addresses...?
So much to think about! We still go "home" when we travel to PA :-)! Although I am not sure I would want to live there anymore, there is a belonging part to Lancaster Co!
It's so strange when home isn't home any longer, but it's also still home. Strange and beautiful. I'm thankful for those places that hold a space for us, even after we've gone.
My favorite house was a rental in a small beach town. As a child, I was fascinated by the number of doors...8 total leading outside. A wrap around porch, a servants quarters off the kitchen where me and my cousins slept. A winding staircase. A room.my mom claimed was haunted for the sounds she heard late at night while reading The Turn of the Screw. A screened porch where my grandma taught me to play cards, or tried to. A short path to the bay where a red boat sat on the sand. If I got in that boat and sailed off, where would it take me.
I think about homes a lot (and renovate homes A LOT). My favorite house has been our 1920s brick bungalow. Unfortunately we outgrew it...but the book I started to write was centered around this place!
I want to read that book, Malinda! All the heart eyes for 1920s bungalows... and the sorrow over the houses that are too small to hold us anymore, even if we went back to them.
This resonates and sings so much for me. As I read I found a second string of words forming in my head, words that will need to be written. I've always loved how much houses feature as characters in the works of L.M. Montgomery-- but I always felt a bit sad that I didn't love my homes quite enough. There was always something lacking. They weren't quite... romantic enough. I dreamed of gingerbread victorians, castles, cottages. Instead, I lived in... houses. They were homes, mind you, cozy with loving family, but the physical structures didn't have anything quite as wonderful as the attic room where Meg Murray rode out storms. They didn't have basements or hidden rooms or quaint nooks. I wanted a room where the ceiling slanted at odd angles. I wanted a balcony and a window seat and a cupola. I used to fill notebooks with floor plans for houses-- they always had a tower and a library.
I want to write more about the various places I've lived. The ones that are most magical have been transitory houses, rentals where I stayed or places I was a guest. I dislike very much the house I live in now, even though it's the only home my children have ever known. I should love it for the memories, but I resent it for being too small, for being ugly and awkward and ungracious and for having only one story and lacking in storage. I hate it for practical reasons-- it doesn't actually suit my family's needs. I hate it for romantic reasons-- it's not the house of my dreams.
But I think the rest of the words that want to be written will have to wait for another day. Thank you so much for the gift of your words.
Melanie, you have a gorgeous, compelling beginning to your own houses essay right here! I hope you continue it; I’d love to hear more. And yes to LM Montgomery’s houses. And to the temporary homes often being most special (Why is that?). And to disliking the house in which you now live, which is also your children’s only home—me, too. This ache for the kind of place we know can exist, that we could thrive in down to the tips of our toes….Thank you for being here.
Oh dear Ellen, I am not at all surprised you and I have this commonality! I love what you share about your current home and what it means to you, as well as your past apartment. Wonderful thoughts about the centrality of home in literature and philosophy. Indeed, we are not the only ones who feel this way!
I'm looking forward to reading your blog. And good news! You are already a paid subscriber. These essays will already be available to you. I'm so thankful for your presence in this space.
I am so sorry for that loss. My cats mean so much to me. Sending love and hugs your way.
I just counted, and I have had 13 addresses in my life! My first one I lived at until I was one and a half, but my first memory occurred in that house. I associate each one of those dwellings with different major life and world events. Thinking and writing about houses is a rich way to explore what shapes us. Wishing you the best with sharing this project!
Thank you, Tania! Isn't it satisfying to think of all our homes and what they've meant? Now I wonder what type of form poem would best house a walk-through of our former addresses...?
Definitely a sestina!
That's what I was thinking!
Every house I've ever lived in has been a "character." (I like how you put it that way.) Nesting location is super important to me.
Well said, Jenn! "Nesting location is super important to me." YES.
They also all have stories. And show up (in modified dream form--I anticipate you know what that is like) in my dreams.
Oh same, same, Jenn. These old homes of mines appear again and again when I'm sleeping.
So much to think about! We still go "home" when we travel to PA :-)! Although I am not sure I would want to live there anymore, there is a belonging part to Lancaster Co!
It's so strange when home isn't home any longer, but it's also still home. Strange and beautiful. I'm thankful for those places that hold a space for us, even after we've gone.
This is so good 😭
Thank you, Ruth!
My favorite house was a rental in a small beach town. As a child, I was fascinated by the number of doors...8 total leading outside. A wrap around porch, a servants quarters off the kitchen where me and my cousins slept. A winding staircase. A room.my mom claimed was haunted for the sounds she heard late at night while reading The Turn of the Screw. A screened porch where my grandma taught me to play cards, or tried to. A short path to the bay where a red boat sat on the sand. If I got in that boat and sailed off, where would it take me.
Oh, thank you for sharing this. I think that house is a story waiting to be told! I am in love with that red boat.
For sure, a story! I wrote a poem about it Yeats ago for a poetry class. That house will always be in my heatt.
You mean there are people who don't think of houses as real characters?
This is such a lovely reflection on the meaning of home, Rebecca. It's somewhere I've been searching for all my life. I'm so excited for your memoir!
Thank you for being here, Tiffany. I knew you would understand.
I think about homes a lot (and renovate homes A LOT). My favorite house has been our 1920s brick bungalow. Unfortunately we outgrew it...but the book I started to write was centered around this place!
I want to read that book, Malinda! All the heart eyes for 1920s bungalows... and the sorrow over the houses that are too small to hold us anymore, even if we went back to them.
We had a significantly bad foundation problem there…the story is kinda crazy! Which makes for a good book, right? :D
It sure does! Good metaphor possibilities, too…
"the unique ways we walk through this life"
ah - sigh - *drinks a mouthful of local rosé wine*
cheers - neighbor friend.
let's tea soon and speak wise words...or wisest of all, say nothing at all *shrugs and smiles 'in French'*
Yes, indeed!
This resonates and sings so much for me. As I read I found a second string of words forming in my head, words that will need to be written. I've always loved how much houses feature as characters in the works of L.M. Montgomery-- but I always felt a bit sad that I didn't love my homes quite enough. There was always something lacking. They weren't quite... romantic enough. I dreamed of gingerbread victorians, castles, cottages. Instead, I lived in... houses. They were homes, mind you, cozy with loving family, but the physical structures didn't have anything quite as wonderful as the attic room where Meg Murray rode out storms. They didn't have basements or hidden rooms or quaint nooks. I wanted a room where the ceiling slanted at odd angles. I wanted a balcony and a window seat and a cupola. I used to fill notebooks with floor plans for houses-- they always had a tower and a library.
I want to write more about the various places I've lived. The ones that are most magical have been transitory houses, rentals where I stayed or places I was a guest. I dislike very much the house I live in now, even though it's the only home my children have ever known. I should love it for the memories, but I resent it for being too small, for being ugly and awkward and ungracious and for having only one story and lacking in storage. I hate it for practical reasons-- it doesn't actually suit my family's needs. I hate it for romantic reasons-- it's not the house of my dreams.
But I think the rest of the words that want to be written will have to wait for another day. Thank you so much for the gift of your words.
Melanie, you have a gorgeous, compelling beginning to your own houses essay right here! I hope you continue it; I’d love to hear more. And yes to LM Montgomery’s houses. And to the temporary homes often being most special (Why is that?). And to disliking the house in which you now live, which is also your children’s only home—me, too. This ache for the kind of place we know can exist, that we could thrive in down to the tips of our toes….Thank you for being here.