What Does Home Mean To You?

 Home can come in many different forms. It can be a place you hold dear, it can be a refuge from troubled times, a state of mind, or it can be a stopover along the way to someplace else.

Watermelons make a great place to call home, if you're a Wren or a Chickadee.

If you've spent any time in the military, you will know, it's tough to settle down in one place for any length of time. Moving constantly from one post to another, you learn to travel light. 

Baltimore Oreole and a clever "Suet House"

I've moved numerous times in my life, at least 5 times that I can recall. I've been over the Big Pond at least twice, calling Germany home for 18 months, even started my first year of school there. When dad's tour overseas was over, we moved back to the US, where we stayed with Dad's family in NJ for a while, before finally moving back to Mom's home turf, and finally settling in California. 

No, I didn't live in my car, but I did spend a lot of time in it, cleaning and shining it up. There was pride of place, even in the driver's seat, and I was Queen of my tiny world.

(My home of my youth, seen in the background; I've revisited it in my dreams, many times) Recently, I found the old Homestead on Google Maps; it's not as warm as I remember it, cold and neglected-looking, in a sad way. This picture reminds me of happier times.

We moved to where we are now, a little over 11 years ago. We have the perfect campsite, always available, without having to make reservations a year in advance, and without the temporary camping neighbors. I can make my own cooking smells too!

I moved to where I am now, a little over 11 years ago. Although there are places I still would like to see, I think I've found where I will stay the remainders of my days.

Home is where the heart is, and no matter where you lay your head at night, if you can find a little peace and solace, then you can call that Home.

Silent Writers Collective : A Story of Love

 Inspiration by:
Writing Prompts « Writer’s Workshop « Mama's Losin' It!

I need to educate DH on the concept of #SilentWriters weekly meetings. I've been doing this for only a few weeks, but he still doesn't get it; I'm meeting with other bloggers/writers who take one hour out of every Tuesday evening, to post a blog entry based on a prompt from one of many fellow writers.

Simply put, when I'm blogging during #SilentWriters hour, 

 ZIP IT!

Tonight, I'm inspired to write collectively about all 5 prompts listed in Mama's Losing It! blog:

1.) A story of love.
2.) 10 Things my mother taught me.
3.) I often daydream about…
4.) You have an hour to kill on the telephone…who do you call and why?
5.) I’m inspired by… (A photo journal entry)

1.) This is A story of love.

2.) It is about 10 Things my mother taught me.

Throughout this post, I will refer to my mom by her given name, Laurena, because she was a girl, before she was my mom.  I will refer to her by her nickname, when it became hers.

Laurena came from a strong French/Welsh home, managed by her father Christopher, who single-handedly raised 4 kids on a pre- pre-WW11 north-central California ranch.

mother, Louisa Laurena, oldest son Edward, and father, Christopher

 After the  mother died from complications of diabetes, obesity and heart trouble, every child was required to pitch in and help run the farm. The two boys ran the farm, while the two girls took over the house chores. That didn't stop Laurena from having a pet pig to occupy her days.

 When she wasn't fighting with her sister over a Christmas present, a beloved doll with hair that Laurena loved to sit and comb for hours, which sported more beautiful hair than her sister's doll; that one suffered a hideous hair cut, much to Laurena's anquish. 

When she had no other children to play with, she was playing with her pet pig. After the days' work was done, she could be found riding about the countryside in her dad's jalopy, driven by her older brother, while sitting in the rumble seat, hair blowing in the wind. She was free-spirited, young, and full of vinegar

3.) I often daydream about the tales she told me of her childhood, when she still had her memories. She recalled one particular time when she was about 5 or 6, and as a pass-time would go to the local general store for her weekly allotted treat of one piece of penny candy. 

As she strolled around the store, looking for all the world like an angelic cherub, she spied the candy jar that sat on the counter, and in an instant, took a dare and absconded with a piece of candy, right behind a cop's back! She recalled laughing hysterically as she ran from the shop, her price clutched tightly in her little fist, as the cop shouted behind her to STOP! and come back here, or suffer the consequences.

4.) If I had an hour to kill, I'd call my mom and ask her, "Is that where you got the nickname, "Penny" from? Or was it for the penny loafers that were the fashion trend of every care-free teen, at the time?

I'd also ask her, was I named after her first "baby", a Cocker Spaniel she called, "Sandy". 

Sandy and Penny, March 1951

Dad and Sandy, March 1951

5.) I’m inspired by…

...the many pictures my parents kept, and I find many parallels in their lives and mine. We all loved our trucks and cars, we all loved horses, and I guess when I think back on the name I loved to hate, was one that eventually stuck with me: Sandy.