Does the concept of home change over time?

Src: Elijah Grimm Unsplash

On a trip to my Midwest, childhood home after Mom died, I played pool alone in the game-room. When I remember my years living there, the first memories that come to mind, hover around that game-room.

Dad teaching me to play pool. Chatting on the phone with my then boyfriend, now husband. Imagine a long curly, aqua phone cord stretching from the kitchen as I paced back and forth. Taxidermy heads watching over me. And on holidays, like Thanksgiving, extended family members taking turns playing eight-ball, arguing over where to put the cue ball if you scratched.

Growing up we didn’t talk about politics at the dinner table. Politics went out of the house in the form of checks, and sat on bookshelves I didn’t notice until after my dad’s death. I don’t remember any lawn signs, but I do remember Dad sitting in the den writing checks.

Dad’s handwriting was crisp and precise, same as his demeanor. I always wanted to write like him. His “J”s not flamboyant, but consistent and commanding. My mother’s handwriting full of curves and the social graciousness of thank you notes. She didn’t dot her “i”s like we did in high school when we wrote notes and passed them around in origami shapes. A low-tech version of texting almost 50 years ago.

When the Vietnam War was nearing the end, I remember the first of two times I yelled at my father.

Near the game-room, we both stood holding our ground. Blue eyes to blue eyes. I asked to go to Washington DC to march against the war. My father raised his voice calling me naive. I met the intensity of his volume. I don’t remember the exact words, but the scene is etched into my memory in slow motion, sound on mute. I felt empowered to state my reasons, and he heard me out. He held the money I didn’t convince him to loan me, but I felt safe enough to argue.

What does home mean to you and where do you feel at home? Does our concept of home shift over time?

what is home?

As Diane E. Dreher Ph.D. writes in “Where Do You Feel at Home?” — “We all need a sense of psychological home, a space of refuge, comfort, and security.”

I’ve lived in our Pacific Northwest home for 40 years, twice as long as my childhood home. Our Portland home, where memories of all three girls growing up reside, their photos sprinkled upstairs and down, their laughter and tears floating with the dust mites.

As we approach the holidays, kicked off in the US by Thanksgiving, there is much talk about home and family. When we spent time in Amsterdam this summer, creating a temporary home-away-from-home, the concept of hygge kept tickling me from the side. Our extended family of grown daughters, their partners and granddaughters, inhabited a lovely AirBnB by someone who clearly enjoyed sharing their sense of home in a beautiful city.

According to Everyday Hygge — “In essence, hygge is a lifestyle that encourages being present, mindful, and caring towards oneself and others. It involves taking a pause from the daily hustle and seeking solace in what’s happening at the moment.” Vacation allowed a pause from our normal busyness to appreciate everything a bit more.

Home has its own space-time dimension. A time warp of past memories colliding with life at the moment: remembering the girls when they were little, seeing them as adults, seeing them with kids — being all together in a way that blended past, present, and hinted at the future.

does our concept of home shift over time?

For this month’s thought echoes podcast (now available on YouTube), Morgan Baker, professor and author of Emptying the Nest: Getting Better at Goodbyes, shares a pivotal time in her life when two aspects converged. Her eldest daughter left for college and she parted with nine puppies from a litter their family raised. Morgan’s sense of losing her footing on who she was impacted her deeply.

“I think the concept of home shifts over time.”

— Morgan Baker

In our conversation, Morgan spoke of the concept of home being really important, a way to ground ourselves. and of feeling we belong. Her book describes how she learned to focus on herself and rediscover what she wanted. She watched her identify shift as she created another version of home. Her words of advice include creating an environment with the people in your day to day life, accepting that they change over time.

***

The second time I yelled back at my father was about a tire. Mom and Dad were all dressed up for a trip as I drove them to the Milwaukee Airport via I-94.

A large angle iron was in the middle lane right in front of me. Cars on either side. No time to switch lanes. The car jerked going over the debris.

Dad barked, “Pull-over!”

As we stood on the highway shoulder, the cars whizzed by.

”I’ll change it, you’re all dressed up!”

Of course I could change a tire, although I’d never done it before.

Dad overruled me. He wiped his greasy hands on his handkerchief before sliding into the backseat next to Mom. We rode in silence the rest of the way.

When I got home, I practiced over and over how to change a tire. From inside the house, I could hear the curly-corded, aqua phone ring.

In a calm, low voice, ”A little birdie told me I needed to call and apologize.” I knew Mom put him up to it.

Our memories exist as a complex web with deep echoes. The memory of arguing with Dad over marching in Washington DC, now intertwined with my own protective, maternal vantage point.

Home changes over time, memories layered with later perspectives looking back in time. I’m learning to move over a bit and leave room for my future selves to add their vantage points too, like making room for another side dish at the Thanksgiving table.

WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR COMMENTS. WHAT DOES HOME MEAN TO YOU?

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