The Blue House on the Corner

The first time I saw the blue house on the corner was about five years ago. I was doing Real Estate full time and was going to list another property in the same neighborhood. At the time I remember thinking how cute and charming it was. And it is.

Not too long after listing and selling the first house over there, I had clients looking to buy and we found ourselves writing an offer on a home close to the blue house on the corner. I remembered driving by it frequently and still marveling at how well-maintained the house was. Not that the other homes on the street weren't maintained. But many of the homes were a different style; most split entries. This was a quaint two-story house, with a flawless yard, plenty of well-maintained flowers and the ever-so-dreamt of white picket fence. It was what I imagine homes in the Leave it to Beaver era all looked like if I could have watched that show in color.

Behind the door I'd often picture a Harriet, with pearls strung around her neck, effortlessly keeping home, waiting for Ozzie to return from a day's work so she could hand him his paper and pipe and greet him with a warm hello-kiss on the cheek. To me, this home somehow symbolized that American Dream; the one we were sort of raised to believe in.

The home is not extravagant by any means, and definitely more simple than not. Funny thing is, I have worked for a title company, not too far from the blue house on the corner for the past few years. Much of the time I eat lunch at my desk and work right through. I used to do this so that I could take an official lunch break to do school pick-up in the afternoons. But I didn't have kids to pick up during the summer, and now that FunnyMan can drive, I don't always have school pick-up now either. Now, I look forward to actually getting "away" for lunch.

Many times for lunch, I drive over to the church behind the blue house on the corner. There are lots of trees there and plenty of shade. I can park and eat my lunch and take a nap or phone a friend, or catch up on Facebook via my phone or what have you. It's like my "spot", my thinking place, a place of solace for me.

I hadn't realized until recently that the blue house on the corner had such an impact on me. I'd drive past it every time to go to the church and I realized after about three days in a row that I would actually smile whenever I saw it. So, of course the way my brain works I had to ask myself 'why' I was smiling and at 'what' I was smiling. I knew it had something to do with the house.

It is still perhaps too enigmatic to completely put my finger on. All I know is that I love driving by the blue house on the corner. I love the way it makes me feel relaxed and like I can breathe all of a sudden. Funny thing the way the mind works sometimes and what can trigger such a psychosomatic response. Reminds me of something my counselor once told me...

She said some people are subconsciously aware that they are thinking and pondering such things. But that I am the type of person that is consciously aware that I am consciously aware that I am thinking and pondering such things. Whoa... wrap your brain around that. To analyze why you are analyzing...

A little obsessive? Maybe. But that's how I roll, baby.

Anyone Home???

In case you missed it, I went home last weekend. While there I visited with family and a couple of friends. My Father's family is Amish.

Let me just get this part out of the way now: Yes. I did take pics of some of my cousin's children. Yes, the Amish are against having their pics taken (graven imagery). But some Amish (like many of my cousins) don't mind if the kids are in a pic once in a while because 1) they are not yet baptized and therefore held by a different standard. 2) because it is ME asking :)

Anyway...so back to the post. My aunt asked me if it felt good to "be home". I said, "yes". Then she said, "Well, you probably feel at home in UT though now. Since you lived there for so long by now." Actually, I had to correct her and tell her that Indiana still felt like home. I asked a few other friends, since they moved away from home, if they feel like they are home now or when they go back to visit? I was surprised at how many feel at home just because they are in the company of loved ones. Perhaps because things were not "settled" for me in my home for well over ten years... perhaps that is why I did not feel "at home".

And while it is true that I have loved ones here, there are only a handful compared to the number of people back home who love me and support me. I hope that one day, when I *do* feel settled (whenever that may be) then, I will feel at home.

So what about you? If you live somewhere far from where you grew up, do you feel at home now? What do you think makes someone feel "at home" in their current town or city?

And now, for your viewing pleasure... my cousins, when I went to visit back "home".

My uncle Leo makes his own rugs and then sells them...