In the coziness of my small little abode, the fireplace providing penetrating heat to my tired body, I am grateful tonight. Grateful that I own my own home, even with as much work as it needs. I grew up believing that the only way I would own a home is to marry. Well, guess what? Not the case.
One of the proudest days of my life was when I went to the bank and closed on my house. I bought it out from my ex-husband. It’s where I have done my most growing, actually maturing. I have been here 25 years, moved here in my 20’s. Upon moving here we sold the large acreage of land we owned, finding it too expensive to build on (had to put in power, a very long drive, etc.). From that piece of land I dug up a small maple tree. Well, it wasn’t even a tree then it was 4 or 5″ tall, very fragile. When we moved in here it was planted in the back yard. This tree now stands 40 (?) feet tall, I call this my “Tree of Life”. Many a night I would go sit out under that tree, pondering whatever, wherever I was at the time. I have lit candles underneath that tree, I have buried the ashes of my beloved furry children, and above that resides perennials, a memorial for those I loved (and still love) who have since passed.
It has stood strong and grown with me, offering shelter not only from the sun but also rain, sleet, snow. I love this tree. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at it and smile, either out my kitchen or porch window(s), or as I drive into my yard. A few years ago the heaviness of a snow storm broke off a fairly large branch. As I picked up the pieces, bringing them to my burn pile I remember thinking “How ironic”, or was it? I, too felt like I had one of my limbs broken off, I healed alongside this tree. Afraid that it was going to die on me, it proved to hold its own and heal, and continues to stand tall, healthy and proud.
Today I went and visited a dear friend. It is a couple hour drive and a beautiful drive at that. We have been having unbelievably beautiful weather, while foliage is passing it is nonetheless beautiful. I love New England, I love Vermont, I love where I live. I hope I can always afford a home here. My hometown isn’t home for me, though it is settled only 25 miles away. This small town which probably has more cows than residents, this small house which has provided shelter and many times like the safety of a womb, this is my home.
I love being home! 🙂