Beautiful Home

Sunlight peeks through the shade. Birds break into song. My first thought is of the homemade blueberry muffins sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting to be paired with a hot cup of coffee.

When I go downstairs, the dogs greet me, tails wagging. Smudge ventures outside while Roscoe sniffs the air wary of thunder. He stays by my side, hoping I’ll sneak him some leftovers while his brother, is oblivious. I remember to place a bowl behind the coffeemaker to save our coffee grounds for the garden, and then I begin the ritual I’ve kept since March. Every handle, every knob, the front door the sliders, and the fridge in the garage all wiped cleaned with bleach. Next, with the push of a button, my dream machine, vacuums the dog hair from the floor. Thank goodness for the iRobot! Eventually, I sit in the quiet, sun streaming through the glass, eating my muffin, sipping coffee, watching the birds fly to and from the banyans.

When I taught writing, I’d tell students to pretend they were putting on a pair of binoculars, to clear away everything in the background and focus on one thing. It feels like since COVID, I’ve put on binoculars. My focus is on home.

I’m rediscovering all the simplicities that brought me joy when I was a kid. Only they’re better now because I’m seeing them through the lens of an adult. I suppose I’m more appreciative because I understand that the simplest of moments like looking up and seeing billowy clouds against a cobalt blue sky, or watching a butterfly land on a leaf, or seeing my cat climb on the roof of my husband’s car can bring about feelings of joy as much as seeing the Matterhorn or the Louvre. That feeling of wow, I love life, can fill me in the smallest moments. I don’t need to travel around the world to find peace. It’s all around me all the time, energy waiting for me to connect to it so it can turn on a light from within.

Yesterday as I was pulling weeds and planting flowers, a car pulled up to the front of our house. A man with a booming voice and New York accent yelled, “I love your house! Every time I’m here I say I have to drive by my house! I’m from Long Island. It reminds me of home.” His energy, his excitement at seeing something I’ve loved and cared for for over twenty years brought me joy. Seeing our house reminded him of his home, which made him happy, and at that moment, two strangers smiled, and my day was brighter. This is what got me thinking about home and what it has meant these past few months.

I’ve become even more aware of my thoughts and how they affect me. With every negative thought about how I haven’t accomplished enough or how I’ve gained weight or how I should be more organized, it’s as if I’m turning a circular switch dimming a light within. Too many of those thoughts and everything becomes dark. Before COVID, there was so much going on that even though I understood the importance of living in the moment and the power of my thoughts, I didn’t understand how many outside factors affected me. Now, the binoculars are on. I’m focused and able to see which thoughts bring darkness and which thoughts bring light. And when the dark thoughts of not being enough creep in, I acknowledge them and gently turn on more light. I sit in the sun, garden, jump on my Peloton, or find a creative outlet. I’m filled with a warmth that is life, that is love, that is peace. It’s the feeling I get when Josh Groban sings Brave. It’s my husband poking me in the arm saying, “Krista, Krista, Krista, Krista, Krista.” It’s my son playing piano and my daughter calling to tell me about her day. It’s the smell of garlic emanating from the kitchen, the pelican that flies over the canal, Stella, my horse, coming to greet me at the gate, the melody of the wind chimes on my front porch. They are moments that ignite love. They shout, I love life! They remind me of the importance of always being able to recognize such moments because then no matter where I go, I’m home.

Photo by Robert Bye on Unsplash