Settling in
March 19, 2008 at 12:05 Each house has a spirit and personality that inhabits its spaces and speaks to the people that come through its doors. Only kindred souls hear its voice when they cross the threshold, a whisper of acceptance that says, "Go ahead, be yourself here."
The right house offers a sense of intimacy, of openess to joy, love, sorrow, and longing. Home is a place you can scent with your presence and prayers, allow to witness your tears, echo your laughter, and watch over you while you sleep and dream. It's a place you can trust with your secrets, share with your loved ones.
There have been moments when unpacking has been satisfying. Unrolling a long coil of paper to uncover the salt and pepper shakers we've used for years, feeling their heft, their soothing coolness. Re-discovering the perfect shape and grain of a handcarved wooden bowl that sits softly in the palm of my hand. Unwrapping a favorite painting and stepping into a memory of when and why I bought it and how it made me feel the first time I saw it. Stacking dishes in a cupboard, enjoying the rhythm of each slide and click. Pushing an oiled cloth over the familiar contours of beloved furniture as if I were washing a baby's back. Seeing the furniture slip easily into its new space like an old friend settling in at the table for a cup of coffee.
But then there are those disconcerting moments when our new life is anything but peaceful and serene. Less than 24 hours in our house and the furnace circuit kept mysteriously tripping, leaving us without heat for hours at a time, chilling muscles that were already cramped from bending over boxes and hauling stuff up stairs. An exhausting search for a toilet plunger after a toilet stopped up in one of the newly remodeled bathrooms (I hate American toilets). A desperate quest for a box of school supplies that I KNOW is in the house somewhere. Concerns that a missing piece of electronics may have been stolen (it wasn't). Panic over a missing credit card. Dismay to discover two fragile botanical wreaths were crammed into a box with part of a lamp (where's the rest?), a basket, and a bevy of art supplies. Wondering how someone could take two rolls of gift wrap that are too long to be put in a box and just bend the rolls into thirds and shove them in it anyway. Shock that a 150-year-old oil painting that has been owned by my husband's family for years was put into a box with office supplies, and that other art was laid down in a box with heavy books stacked over the frames.
Why did the movers carry boxes of Christmas decorations into the master bedroom and dump them there and leave boxes marked "clothes" in the garage? Who put a set of cast iron book ends in a box with knick-knacks? Why were the shelf holders for the oak bookcases carefully placed into ziplocs but then not packed with the shelves?
Our house is littered with boxes, paper, and piles. We are frequently frustrated as we try to live among the chaos and confusion, but as we stand and work and flop and curse and smile and chat, the house comes together. It whispers encouragement. It pulls in the sunshine and highlights its charms. It promises starry views from the deck, green shade all around in summer and a swirl of falling leaves in fall, peaceful mornings by the picture window, and warm nights in front of the fireplace.
It tells us to soldier on even when weary, to imagine good things even when sad. It says take off your shoes and put down your burdens and rest a minute, and in that quiet moment, it whispers "Welcome home."
March 19, 2008
Reader Comments (12)
PS we STILL have boxes we have not yet unpacked...so I so admire your gusto!
Day.
At.
A.
Time.
:)
"when people start color matching their interior,
they found a place they can call home"
;-)
:)