Friday, December 10, 2010

Parties and Homes


on the way down 19th street


Home is never oh ever a word with which I fling on tables or yell at parties. Home is a thing with edges like faded fences or hollyhock dander. Home is a loud whisper like the wind blowing the elms hither and thither, but there I sit on the inside sewing by the fire. I know it when I touch it, but to describe it takes a bit more time. Tonight, a woman I'd never met before said a few words to me and here I went and spilled my guts about everything I loved about the little house on 19th street with it's own edges all neat and tidy and full of history and its own ghosts and maybe because of the two glasses of wine I chugged down, I went on and on about its uneven stairs and its funny little landings off the stairs and the bump in the carpet and the old cabinets in the kitchen and strange little gardeny thingy out the back door and the pink flowered hawthorn trees and the oh my the best chicken coop you ever saw...oh I'm sorry to be going on and on...oh no, tell me more...and the sunrise I'm sure would be heavenly from there and the ancient lilac out front and could you imagine in the spring how good it would smell and the willow way out front in the summer when you just want to dip your feet in the irrigation pond and sit under a willow and wouldn't that be nice and have you ever been somewhere that you just feel like you know you've been there before and...oh I've talked too much...

Okay, I truly hate it when I am around too many people. It confuses me. I feel like I must have some sort of disorder, but I tend to find the quietest corner with the quietest looking people sitting in it and I try to have a small conversation, but what I wish for is some sort of job where I can look busy so I don't have to be so nice...how terrible. So instead, sometimes I seek out the bathroom and spend a good while in there letting the semi-quiet sink in.

The house we went to tonight had just "had the renovation completed this afternoon" (don't you know), and it was all "oh my I'm so embarrassed at how shabby this room is" and I'm looking for what might be shabby and there was all sorts of talk about how to fix old wood floors cause we need them shiny and unmarked and the best things to do with all all this horrid chair railing and what do we do about not enough pantry space and don't you adore this color of green and this cheese is heavenly with only this sort of wine don't you think and where to find the best most expensive shoes and...anyway, I want the nearest bathroom, please...

I got to thinking about staff parties that might be hosted at our home...This is how I'd do it in my uneven-staired, bump in the carpet home: We've got the homemade meat smoker stoked up out back and a fire in the orchard, and let's go for a walk around the property in the snow and I'll show you my best laying hen and my most fancy rooster and look at what this pig can do, and do you want to see some baby goats and these gourds where from my garden and I did in fact make that broom and won't you have some of these pickled asparagus I made this last summer and rolls with the jam I made out of the peaches from our orchard...

Anyway, in the midst of it all, there was a woman I'd never met before and she looked very thoughtful and hippy-ish and a good listener/deep talker, just the sort I gravitate toward, and we quickly started talking about homes and what our homes were like and I said I live in a very nice house, but it isn't my home. My home is on the farm and my home is with my little kids and husband, and how deeply I want to bring my people home to a physical place that feels like we all belong there together - a place with a slamming back door and squeaky stairs and quirky things that make you swear on "had-it-up-to-here" kinds of days - She knew just what I meant when I said, "I don't know, the house just speaks to me..." because she answered, "...and you are listening." I take that as a good sign.


3 comments:

Naquillity said...

oh Katiebird, you spoke of home so tenderly and made me long for the days where i grew up. my home isn't a house so much anymore. it's wrapped in the people who make me strongest these days. i'm learning to allow them to shelter me through the difficult times that lie ahead for me. their love, warmth and caring is what i look to now. it's a blessing really. hope all is well. have a great day.

Jesska said...

Your writings always spark something deep inside me, a wonderfulness that errupts into my eyes that overflow. Your beautiful, and although I read your words I can read between them as well. I hear and see you and YES my dear soul sister, your home is speaking to you and YES, you are listening...the sign is extrodindary and the day will come that you share your exciting news... I LOVE YOU..:)

sarah said...

I know just what you mean. I'm glad you made a connection at the party.

Your writing is beautiful. It soaks into my heart like gentle colours.