From my previous post ya’ll know that I spent this past at weekend in Woodland, nestled in our cozy mountain home, doing my best to help my Mom and spending quality time with my family. A large chunk of my minutes, which quickly turned to hours, and then slowly turned to days was spent laying low in the quiet, thinking about things. I hate the word “things”; I think it’s a way to avoid the opportunity of actually describing something. So, what did I actually think about? I thought about the structure of my home. No, not the placement of the windows and doors or the square footage of each room, but what really holds this place together. I grew up in this home. It’s where I learned how to be everything I am today. It’s where I discussed things with the people I that I love most. It’s where I discovered my abilities. And now, it is where I come back to. When I think of this little mountain retreat that I am lucky enough to call my home I could use the word heal in its place. This post could quickly turn into the song “the house that built me” by Miranda Lambert, and I would be a liar if I said that tune hasn’t been running through my head for the past semester of my life, but I would also be lying if I said the only thing that this house has done for me was build me. Now, even more than ever, I see that it does much, much more than that. The little unfinished cottage that is white and black in color, that sits humbly upon a manmade hill at 2706 East Crestview Drive, has the ability to heal. The word heal is a word of progression, not a word of permanence. This house won’t protect me from the evils that the world has to offer, but it will lend me strength to concquer what is to come. This house won’t give me a firm answer in challenging choices I have to make, but it will supply me with people who believe in me and my abilities and who will support me in whatever I do. Most importantly, this house won’t allow me to idle in it; it won’t allow me to find too much comfort in it’s walls; instead, it will give me exactly what I need and send me on my way. It will see to it that anywhere I go, I do all that I can to mimic the feelings of this home in the new one I’ve found myself in.
Part of me is glad that I did not actually post this when I had originally planned because it was the month and a half that followed that really taught me about the abilities of this home....
Prior to that weekend ^ I had been in a very strange place of my life… during that time I was faced with many challenges, many building-blocks, and many opportunities to learn about myself and the people around me. I had a horrible attitude and felt so defeated, but when I came back to this place and “recharged” I made my return back to my life in the south with zest and determination. Now I know it’s not the actual home that heals, but I find it somewhat ironic that this place is the gathering spot; during the holiday season this is where our large family comes to be with one another, when a person goes through surgery or is sick in any way it is upon our couch that they work to get better, and it’s where I find myself putting the pieces of my life together. I know that this place has a special spirit about it and it’s not because of the way that it’s decorated or even it’s perfect location here in the Woodland Valley, but it’s the people that fill this home and their spirits that give this place it’s spirit. In this place held together by wood and nails there is a group of people who have different roles and different responsibilities, people with different ideas and different tastes, and people who work together to make this place a home where family comes first. These people are my life. And sure, this place may be my home but it is more clear than ever that I could be placed in a box on the side of the street with my family and I could consider that home.
Because… Home, is wherever I’m with you.
♥ Miss Beasley