Monday, July 26, 2010


Presently at my house, we are recovering from a couple of weeks of totally crazy activity. Eye exams and dental appointments, movie shoots, camp and more camp, writers' meetings, Woodmen activities,....gah! We all need to STOP!

Our calendar is not completely clear this week, either, but at least we'll be operating mostly from home instead of from some "remote location." After running around like a mad rabbit for over two weeks, I decided this weekend that Moms who do not stay at home for any significant period of not have homes. They have way stations. Drive-through kitchens, laundromats, bath houses. A place to grab a bite, shower, and catch a few winks. But NOT a home.

When we began unloading sleeping bags and coolers from the car after camp, one of the first things I noticed was that the house didn't smell "right" - perhaps a week without Kendall funk had altered the chemistry of the air. And everything felt settled, like it had been too long undisturbed. Of course, all that was quickly remedied with our sudden flurry of ins and outs, junk piled here and then sorted and relocated there. Clothes hung out on the line to dry, then brought in again with the smell of sunshine still clinging to them. Coffee brewing. Dinner cooking in the kitchen. Kids tumbling and playing music and telling stories. All the mundane activity that surrounds a Mom...children, laundry, cooking, directing chores.

Which raises the question: just what does make a home? It's not the interior decorating or window treatments. Not the pictures on the walls or the arrangement of the furniture. No, it's something else...something connected to the breath and dialogue and movement of the people who live there. Something birthed by and strangely intertwined with the soul of the Mother.

What about you, Dear Readers? What is home to you?

1 comment:

tracy said...

I don’t think that length of time spent in the house by the one that gave birth to the brood is what makes it a home. Working mothers and single working mothers and stay at home dads and stay at home grandmothers and couples without children and any combination in between define what their home is. Spending time in the domicile is meaningless if the love and affection for one another is absent. I’d much rather rush in and spend an hour together a day with people that love and respect and honor me than spend all day with people who don’t. If anything I think that working mothers work extra hard to make the time that they do have with the family mean something.