Last weekend we attended a family gathering at a large ranch house in the mountains east of Salt Lake. This building was 17000 sq. feet! Four of my houses could fit inside with room left over. It had beautiful timber framing and wood or tile floors throughout.
With eight bedrooms, (each with its own bath), and a couple with multiple beds, it easily slept 20. I don’t think that was counting the bed in the theater room.
A river ran past the house so that every deck out the back, every window, including the view from the master bedroom, (with its own staircase), was of a river. I’d love to wake there and see that river every morning. Part of the property included a mountain. The owner would rent a CAT and carry people to the top of the mountain, then, after the CAT groomed the hill, they’d ski down. And repeat. I can’t tell every amenity or beauty of this place. (Did I mention there is a wine cellar, humidor, work-out room, and steam sauna?)
And yet, I was glad to return home at the end of the day.
When I was a young woman, I “designed” a dream house that included a ballroom. Since then, I’ve come to realize that a large house does not appeal like it used to. Sure, part of me would still like to step into Maria von Trapp’s life, but for the most part, that isn’t what home is about.
For me, Home Is Where:
I always want to go back to.
The faces in the frames are of people I love.
I know where the Band-Aids, snuggly throws, and chocolate chips are kept.
My favorite foods are in the fridge—and cereal in the cupboard.
I know how to work the remotes (or at least one of them).
Depending on my mood, Sinatra croons, a horn plays, or I’m transported to a sock hop with Silly Love Songs.
I can hang out in my PJ’s on a wintry weekend morning.
I can eat apples from the tree without asking.
My favorite books are on the shelves.
I am my most true self.
What is home to you?