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Dierks Bently – Home

West, on a plane bound west
I see her stretchin’ out below
Land, blessed Mother Land
The place where I was born

Scars, yeah she’s got her scars
Sometimes it starts to worry me,
‘Cause lose, I don’t wanna lose
Sight of who we are

From the mountains high
To the wave-crashed coast
There’s a way to find
Better days, I know
It’s been a long hard ride,
Got a ways to go
But this is still the place
That we all call home

Free, nothin’ feels like free,
Though it sometimes means
We don’t get along
‘Cause same, no we’re not the same
But that’s what makes us strong
From the mountains high
To the wave-crashed coast

There’s a way to find
Better days, I know.
It’s been a long hard ride,
Got a ways to go
But this is still the place
That we all call home.

Brave, gotta call it brave
To chase that dream across the sea.
Name, then they signed their names
For something they believed
Red, how the blood ran red
We laid our dead in sacred ground
Just think, wonder what they’d think
If they could see us now

It’s been a long hard ride,
Got a ways to go
But this is still the place
That we all call home.
It’s been a long hard ride,
And I won’t lose hope
This is still the place
That we all call home.

That song came on the radio today. Yes, another song. It started me thinking about “home” and that will be the topic of tonight’s post.

Last night, I had a small dinner party. It was me, the Nanny and a guest. We watched two movies and listened to one raunchy cassette tape of a comedian. Yes, I did and I enjoyed it. I have had this tape for years and we were just sharing it with our guest because we knew they would enjoy it. We had a great night but we did mix quite a few drinks with our fun. I went to bed just shy of drunk but well beyond the limit of being able to drive. I know that Jen was feeling the same way, even when she denies it. She’s got tell-tale signs that belie her words. It was cute.

I got up this morning and was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee while Nanny ran to get the boys from her mother’s house. No, I’m not stupid. If I think I’m going to have a few drinks, my boys are not home and otherwise taken care of. As I sat there, I looked around my house. It was quiet and it was clean. I started thinking about this place that I’m in.

When I found it, the house was perfect and had all I needed for my small family and I. It was large enough to hold the inventory from my store without infringing on the space needed for two growing boys. Even the Nanny has her own space and I can tell you, Jen loves it. Her room is actually bigger than mine; although, my room is much better because it is a beautiful “Master Bedroom.” As we moved in, I made mention that I would paint over the two orange walls if I could, modernize the light fixtures and definitely change out the pure 1970s cabinets and stove/wall-oven in the kitchen. It was the only gripe I had about this house (except for the yard, which was in a complete and total state of disrepair). I moved in knowing I wasn’t allowed to paint or change anything and I accepted that fate for the time being.

Over the summer, I struggled with the idea of starting over in a new state. I was thinking about a new place and a fresh outlook. I wanted/want a small town, a house back in the dark of the world. I’ve always wanted to live in Montana and it seemed a perfect time to settle up elsewhere.

I haven’t decided what I want to do but I know my thoughts this morning. I was looking at my home and enjoying the look and feel of it. I, with the help of Jen and a few close friends, have made this home. I’ve settled it and started to create memories here. Part of it is this adventure I am on – my attempt to convert myself and my lifestyle to live in the 1950s. I have realized one thing (and I think I’ve said it before), but I found the heart of the home. It’s not necessarily me as the mother.

It’s the kitchen. I spend most of the time in the kitchen, so the boys naturally gravitate and look for me there. When you walk in the front door, you have three choices. You can go to the right, where the bedrooms are. You can go to the left, which is the fireplace room and the kitchen. Or, you can go straight and walk through the official “living room.” From the kitchen or the living room, you can walk through to the back door and the back yard. I have consistently noticed that my boys do not walk through the living room to get to the back yard. They walk through the kitchen. It’s an extra few steps but they do it almost every single time.

Why do they walk through the kitchen to get outside to play? Because that’s where the heart of the home is. Let me repeat that, “The heart of the home.” I spend my time there. I cook, I clean, I sip my coffee. They see me. They feel me in the things I make for them. They hear me when I’m singing along with the radio. The comfort and security of the home and the family is in the kitchen.

The mother makes the home. The mother pulls all the pieces together and makes them fit. I’m not all that special. I’m just me. But, by working on my lifestyle change this past summer, I’ve created a home for my children.

I’m still working on it. I’m still getting my own act together. The point is, I’m trying. And that’s all that counts.

Of course, that begs another question. Will I finally move to my desired state or continue to in the place we have landed? The way things look right now, I can’t answer that. I can say this. I firmly believe that home is where you put all your energy and love. If I move, I can give the boys a home where we go. If I stay, I can continue to build this house into a home my boys will remember for years to come.

That’s the job of a mother and the goal of my life. I’m not perfect and I screw up every day. That’s what makes me human. The fact that I get up every day and keep trying? That’s what makes me a mother.

Thank you for listening,

Naia.

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Categories: American, Mother | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Home

  1. Home is where you make It, I agree totally. The only thing I would say is staying put for a decade or more feels even more home. I have moved all my life, this is the first home I have lived in for a decade, well it will be next year and I have really put down roots. Not saying don’t move you can be a decade in Montana too, it is a beautiful place and you like real winters…what about ex 1? I have a feeling about you two šŸ™‚
    I have always wanted a kitchen that will take a table, ours is just shy of being able, the doors get in the way and it would trash the work flow triangle. Funny enough we looked at a kitchen yesterday with the most amazing thick wood counters and cream painted shaker doors. It was love.. We redid the kitchen when we moved in, it’s still fine ( dammit lol ) maybe in 5 to 10 years we will re do it and at the same time push the back wall back a few feet and knock into the utility too..
    Our kitchen is visited and used but there is no place to loiter so the living room is the heart šŸ™‚

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