"There are homes you run from,and homes you run to."
-Laura Cunningham

This is an unfinished pencil drawing of my grandfather's house.
I am melancholy for it today. That was the sacred space where my creative spirit was nourished,probably,not because my grandmother,Sophie,thought my drawings of her curtains and chairs were so spectacular,but because she acknowledged how much I wanted to draw...and of course everything I did was beautiful. "You are such an artist" still echoes in my heart's ear.
I drew this from an old photo. I never finished it because I became frozen with the thought I would ruin it if I went on. So there it stays in my sketchbook. It was a home I ran to.
My husband and I,like most young couples of the 60's and 70's, started our new life together with nothing. Nothing materially,but much love. We raised three children in 5 houses, none of which were ever "done". But I always surrounded them with comfort...of the heart kind. I told them there was a sign over the door that said "Sanctuary". And it was. No matter what was going on in their lives (and children lives are filled with much turmoil of the growing up kind)home was a safe place,where they were loved and belonged.
It bothered me that my lamps didn't match, and the only window treatments were left from the previous owner. But it didn't stop me from living a good life. My family,growing up, never saved anything (weep,April) but I was able to salvage a few things from the family...my mother's cookie jar,my grandfather's: bible,his wedding certificate of his and my grandmother, Alvina...his wooden cane. These things brought me comfort.
I filled my house with what filled me...books,pottery,quilts,...nothing much of value. So when I asked my children what things they would like from me for their homes...I was prepared for them to say "grandma's cookie jar,great grandpa's cane..knowing this would be a great surrender for me...but low and behold they wanted my bowls,my books,my painting...
I made a home to run to....joy!