In the Wizard of Oz, it was “there’s no place like home.” Of course, there’s the old saw, “Home Sweet Home.” And “home is where the heart is.”
There’s Zillow.com out there, too. You know, the place where they say you can buy a home, but no homes can be had.
Sure, there are houses for sale. Lots of them. There are also townhouses, condos, apartments and flats. But it’s impossible to buy a home. They don’t make them.
Since returning to Seattle I have lived in a lovely house. It’s rather new, spacious, has lots of cool stuff like a giant Jacuzzi tub in the master, a walk-in closet as big as my bedroom when I was a kid, and a fireplace that lights up at the flick of a switch.
But it isn’t home. Or should I say, wasn’t home until a week ago. It was then that I discovered just how rare it is to find a home. And while we all live in some kind of domicile that keeps us dry and warm, it’s not always home.
In fact, it’s so rare we even call it out when we see it. We walk into a friend’s or stranger’s home and say, “Well isn’t this homey, isn’t it?” We don’t say it universally, however, because we’ve also been in “homes” that were really just houses. They didn’t feel like home; never would.
I have lived in several of these houses over the years. Some I have rented, some I have been the roommate, and others I have actually purchased. None were home.
Case in point. I had a lovely house on an acre of land in Florida. Most of my friends loved the place. For me, it was just a nice house. It was never home.
My house now is far more home than that house in Florida ever was and it’s only been that way for the last week or so. That’s when all the boxes and furniture started arriving. First a trickle of stuff, then a flood as the moving van pulled into the drive.
It’s a natural progression in a relationship, to go from two houses to one. Yet, the transformation from house to home was freakishly fast, especially since it rarely happens.
As I sit here writing this, I am surrounded by his, hers and ours. Already I find it hard to say which is which, for it just seamlessly fits together. It looks as if some of my decor has been on back order for the last 10 years and only just arrived. It’s the same for Kat. Everything just seems to fit perfectly together, like we planned it all years ago as we went about our respective lives, adding furnishings, art and knick-knacks to our houses.
This is even more remarkable since we have had to both downsize and right-size over the years in successive moves. Some things we chose to keep, others we cast aside, all to end up in a synergistic home in Shoreline where it looks like we engaged the services of an interior designer. An interior designer with a piratical flair, perhaps, but an interior designer nonetheless.
I suppose it could have all arrived and looked just as nice, but without it all making this house a home. It happened without me even noticing. No remodeling, no repainting, no updates or additions. One day, it was a house with a couple of boys living the bachelor life. The next it is a home, a very Brady Bunch home with a couple of girls learning to live with a couple of boys.
Now you’d think someone who has written about hundreds of subjects would be able to articulate what makes a house a home. I have written dozens and dozens of articles about coffee tables and occasional tables, nightstands and chests. I can tell you in minutiae about which one is best, what materials are ideal and how to care for them.
But I can’t tell you diddlysquat about what makes a house a home. I can tell you that I’ve lived in two homes before. I grew up in a home. It was a wonderful, safe place to live. And then there was the one in Port Orchard, the only home that I bought, a house that was very homey, but eventually it too became a just a house.
I’m still not sure where the tipping point is, that point where the pendulum swings and a house suddenly becomes a home or a home becomes a house. The points are unknown, there are obviously no national standards, but somewhere the machinations of the universe shift and – poof! – house, you’re now a home.
I am still mystified by it all, quite frankly. All I know is that I am home now. Kat, Talia, Parker and I have formed a home in what used to be merely a house. It’s something you can never buy or sell. A home that will never show up on the market, but will show up suddenly and unexpectedly, often when you least expect it, for reasons you can never fully explain.
All I know is that I am finally home. I suppose you could say it’s because it’s where my heart is, but I think it runs much deeper than that. I am still considering the mystery of it all, this house to home thing.
But what I can tell you is that it’s awfully good to be home. I didn’t even know I missed it. Yes, I missed Washington. It is my home. Always was, always will be. But I never thought I would suddenly find a home in the house I lived in. Funny how that works. Someone comes into your life, your life turns completely around, and in the process your house becomes a home, with all the warmth, security and peace you remembered a home being as a child.
In the Emerald City, loving my new home (even though I must step lively around all the boxes),
– Robb