The neat thing about this book is that the author's telling the story of her family within the home by relating the lives, successes, hardships of the folks who've lived within the structure. It's really vivid, and missing New England as I sometimes do, it's a quick trip back home. As it were.
Houses aren't homes -- my house, for instance, usually is more akin to a sty. But we can make houses homes by building ourselves little spaces in which to enjoy life's great fun, and triumph over the tragic stuff. Sometimes that triumph simply means cycling through another mundane 24 hours w/out forgetting it's great to be alive.
I'm not obsessed with homes, but the first home we bought was my favorite for lots of reasons that have nothing to do with it's size or location or opulence. It had this big yard with a perfect sledding hill for kids and friends to play on before heading in for hot chocolate (sangria for the parents). Deer tracked through the surrounding woods. Birds of all kinds chirped and flew by and stopped in for a treat from the feeder.
On nights when I was pregnant with my son, sick with a migraine but unable to take meds, my husband walked my around our large, furnitureless, cathedral ceilinged living room until I was tired enough to sleep. My cats curled up in the windows of that same room, chirrupping at the wildlife while I re-read my favorite novels and awaited our baby's arrival.
The place just felt like home.
What makes your place "home?" What's your favorite thing about the space you live in? Where in your home is your personal sanctuary?