In our house, my husband and I have tried to establish a no-shoes policy. We have a large basket near the front door for shoes. The policy hasn't seemed to take hold for a variety of reasons: my feet are usually cold, so I keep them covered; Rob takes his shoes off and deposits them under the living room table - within clear view of the shoe basket - approximately 4 seconds before he hikes his feet up on the sofa. Our kids mostly leave theirs on because we rarely enforce the no-shoe rule.
Near the end of last term, I had a little gathering at my house for some of my students, most of whom come from India. Each of them left their shoes on my front porch as they stepped inside, just as they would do in their own homes.
A couple of months ago I was in Bangalore working with my business partner. I stayed in a lovely apartment that she provided. When I arrived and she went into this apartment with me, we kept our shoes on. As I settled in by myself after she left, I put my shoes by the door, like most Indian households do. When in Rome, and so on. A few hours later when my partner came back to collect me for dinner, she walked in and without the slightest pause, ditched her shoes by the door where mine were. I interpreted this to mean that this space was now, at least for the next few days, home to me, and she treated it as my home instead of an unoccupied space.
My Jungian blogging friend posted the following questions as a springboard to understand the definition of home. Let's see what we can learn, shall we?
Where is home for you?
These days my definition of home has expanded beyond a physical space and a building, and I find I feel much more at home within myself as I get older. Having said that, home is very much the space I share with my husband.
What is the difference between home and house for you?
When I was a child my parents loved to go house-hunting and to look at model homes. I hated this. I couldn't see the point of looking at a house that no one lived in. The difference between a house and a home was whether or not someone lived there, and more to the point, whether or not I lived there. Not only was I not interested, it scared me to look at houses. I was always afraid we would move into one of them, and none of them was home.
Are you at home now?
Indeed yes.
Have you always felt at home?
I have often felt not at home even in my own home, usually having to do with who else I might have been sharing my home with. Recently we converted one of our bedrooms into a music room - fresh paint on the walls, brought in all the various instruments from various parts of the house, set up the electronic keyboard that I use for a piano (which I bought specifically because it has a true piano-like action to the keyboard). This opened up a room that I had previously not stepped into for several years, and gave me access to a little bit more of my house.
What makes a place a home for you?
I think it must have less to do with the physical space itself and more to do with my state of mind, and who lives in it with me. I lived entirely alone for maybe 16 years of my adult life, usually in smallish apartments, places I generally felt at home. Having my stuff in the home helps - my pictures, books, animals - but I don't necessarily have to make all the choices about how the house looks. For instance, for the music room above, Rob chose the color on his own pretty much sight unseen by me. The same thing when we had the exterior painted last year; he chose the color, which was a different tone than we had before. While I actually preferred the older color, I didn't prefer it enough to make myself part of the decision making process.
How has where you lived impacted you?
I lived for the first 20 months in an orphanage. I lived with other relatives for about 18 months when I was 5-6. In my childhood through college I lived in 10 different houses; as an adult or well over three quarters of my life, only another 5. I would say that where I have lived as a child has impacted most substantially my choices of where and how I live as an adult.Do you think you can go home again?
No. I think you move on from each home and there is only forward movement, never backward.
How did you find your home?
We went house-hunting - which I still hate - on a Sunday afternoon. When we walked into the house we now own, which was I think the second one we saw that day, Rob said this is the one. We made the offer the next day and had it accepted by the end of that week. It has three 60 foot tall liquid amber trees in the front yard, hardwood floors, and lots of windows. I dislike dark rooms. We are hip-deep in fallen leaves every November and December. The house is small, only 1500 square feet. But we have great weather. My friend Mary says that's why we pay prices this high for houses this small.
What is your ideal home?
A little less cluttered than my homes tend to me, especially living with cave-bear Rob.
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