Home Is Where Your Recliner Is

Mom raised us to make our beds – every day. It’s one of those habits I have never been able to break and Mom would be so pleased. The only thing I’ve altered, and only in the last few years, is the elimination of a bedspread. When I made the bed this morning I noticed the dents. You know, those body specific ones you leave from sleeping in the same spot for months on end. One shaped like me. One shaped like him. It made me smile because those dents are something that tells me “this is home.”

And then, of course, that got me thinking about all the other things that make my home mine (ours). Like our mismatched recliners. Mine is a girly peach color with the original arm guards and head thingy in place. His is a manly gray with toast crumbs in the creases. We love them. If we’re away from home for a length of time, one of us will raise an eyebrow and say, “I hear my recliner calling.” The other one chuckles. We know what that means. Time to heed the call.

I fold my bath towels just so. Lengthwise twice and widthwise twice. Makes a nice, easy to stack towel bundle. The way I do it in my home. Another “mom” thing that I’ve kept up. Kind of bugs me when others have some deviant, strange towel configuration, but, hey, I’m a tolerant person. I would never try to force my towel folding method on anyone. Really. I’m not kidding. Fold your towels your own crazy way. I promise I won’t dis you to the neighbors.

I like curtains. I know the current fashion is to let the window be the star and some of them are gorgeous. But the hominess of curtains has more appeal to me than beautiful bareness and I have them at every window, even the ones that face the woods. Can’t be too careful about peeping Tom squirrels.

My upstairs bathroom is my “changing room.” That’s where I change from Ugly Duckling to Swan every morning. Each piece of essential equipment is right where I want it, too. And I can pull the medicine cabinet mirror open and put my nose right up against it. Not like when you travel and the hotel mirror is so far away that a nearsighted swan like me has to stand on tiptoe just to sweep on the eyeliner. Sheesh. What are these hotel designers thinking, anyway? Yeah, the huge marble vanity is nice, but please. A really snarly swan could go all Alec Baldwin on those designers if they don’t wise up. Put in a makeup mirror already.

If I’m coming home from a meeting at night I can count on the road light to lead me in. It’s at the end of our long gravel driveway. Hubby usually turns it on for me and it’s a very welcome beacon. Then, when I swing open the back door and my own home greets me, a kind of peace settles in. The creaky wood floors, the lingering aroma of whatever I made for supper, the oranges in the basket on the kitchen counter, and the good book waiting for me after I put on my jammies all say, "so glad you're back," and I just love it.   

How about you? What peculiar things make your home your home? I’d really like to know. Unless it's some weird towel thing, that is. 

Image: Free Digital Photos