I decided to stay the night at my aunt's house last weekend. I can honestly say over the years of hardships growing into a teenager, her house was a true safe haven for me. My parents were very strict - no sitcoms, one soda a day, sugar cereal on Saturdays only... you get the idea. Anyway, at my aunt's house I could drink 5 sodas if I felt like it (learned my lesson after doing that the first time!), eat anything the cupboards held, and her little cableless TV wasn't an issue because there was always so much to do! She is a very simple lady. I think I have only seen her with makeup on for her wedding back in the 80's, always keeps a long blonde braid and is so out of touch with trends she couldn't tell you what Boy George is.
The best reason to go to her house was because she had a horse. It was the only time I got to ride and I could pet and brush to my heart's delight. Waking up to no TV, but Christian tunes on the radio. Reading the bible over breakfast, and talking "grown up" conversations in the truck. Helping muck stalls and fill frozen water buckets. Collecting veggies from the garden and screaming because there were bugs lurking inside the leaves. All these simple things I never got at home. And respect. I felt like I really meant something - more than just a "little kid". I would go to work with her to the vet and be able to walk through the kennels and look at the animals. As I grew older I helped the groomer bathe the dogs. I had my first alcoholic beverage while laying floor tiles and crying to Black Beauty. (We just covered the slanted tiles with a rug!) She was there when I bit the dust off a horse for the first time and taught me the difference between grass and alfalfa. She was the one who pushed me to learn and do scary things (like ask where the bathroom was). And she was honest! If my hair looked dumb, out of her mouth it came. Definitely blunt, but that is the way I like things. I never had to worry about hidden feelings. She was the only person I could be honest to in return. It was my paradise. And I cried like someone cut off my finger every time I had to leave and go back to my "little kid" reality.
Anyway, after the horses, dogs, and newborn puppies had been fed and tucked in, we settled to watch movies. All three of us sat on the modest three cushion 60's couch decorated with gold flowers and watched two movies. Stopping for popcorn and a wine break, I suddenly realized I felt like a kid again. Exhausted from riding, I headed to bed around 11 and found some interesting reading material titled "Who Says Christmas is Wrong?" (My aunt had converted to Messianicism a few years ago) I read until 12 and turned out the light. By the dim light of the moon I could see so many simple things. The crystal light catcher hung by a bent paperclip on the window sill. The sheets were a mix of colors and patterns all from the disco era (or earlier). The tiny bedside lamp was a touch lamp painted with tiny perfect purple flowers. The dresser had a think comfortable layer of dust that had settled in long ago, and the smell of the room was a pleasant musty lilac from the unlit candles on the dresser. It didn't smell like home, didn't look like home, but boy did it feel like home.
I enjoy the nice and elegant things in life. My life has been pretty easy since I was born into it. My aunt's hasn't. She has been married numerous times, always thinking she had found "Mr. Right". I think she finally found him about five years ago. Her life is modest and hard working. It is also filled with joy in the simple things... watching her garden grow, cooking with too much garlic, and camping by the stream with her horse. I suppose the reason I like her home so much is that it is a reflection of her hard times overcome, and I feel true love in it.
Now, with everything I have said I want you to know she has lived (and I have visited) over 3 houses. Which leads me to realize that my love lies not within a house, but a person I love with all my heart. And she is the one that feels like home.
