The House That Built Me

I'm sitting cross legged on the couch in my family room.
I'm watching The Big Bang Theory with my dad.
I'm resting after a day of cooking, shopping, and cleaning.
I'm thinking about this house... How it's like "The House that Built Me" by Miranda Lambert.
I'm also thinking about Mom, Cameron, Anna, John, Dad, Sarah, Roz and all the people I am so thankful to have in my life.

Here is a little story for you:

I park in the driveway that I used to cover with chalk, where I was once attacked by ants, and where I skinned my knees more times than I care to remember.

I walk through the front door that used to be brown, that I repainted green three summers ago (could it really have been that long ago?), where I used to watch the world go by through the stained glass oval that makes up the center of the door.

I am instantly aware of the overflowing wedding items that are filling up the living room to my left (a fact that makes me excited). Beyond the wedding supplies, lies the baby grand piano that used to be the bane of my existence... But now.... Now it is my therapy, a momentary escape from reality when nothing matters except the sound escaping the strings as a result of my moving fingers.

Sitting on the stairs is my eighteen year old Calico cat, Nala. I can't tell if she is excited to see me, giving me the stink eye, or if old age has just made her look like that: half crazed, half angry. Right now she seems rather indifferent. I drop off my bags in the entry way and work my way to the kitchen for dinner.

I spend the remaining time in the day looking over projects my mom has been working on, exchanging stories, messages, and talking about things that only she understands about me. Oh, and playing the piano. Always playing. Always for her.

After watching TV with my dad, I tiredly stumble up the stairs into my room. Like clockwork, Nala arrives in my room after five minutes and jumps up on my bed. I walk over to her, talking to her in the voice I only save for animals and give her head a little scratch. In the bathroom, I turn on the shower while Nala saunters in and sits on the counter. She watches me as I take off my make up and brush my teeth.

While I'm in the shower, I sing every Disney song from "Stay Awake" to "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" (They were fresh in my mind because I had put my Disney playlist on shuffle during my drive home). My shower at home is probably the only shower that I feel safe singing in.. I will hum in the shower in SLO but when I know that the only person who could be listening is my mom (and Nala), I don't hold back.

After I get dressed and crawl into bed, Nala comes and sits on my chest - meowing/purring. I lift up the covers, as is routine, and she crawls under into the nook between my side and my arm. As she curls up in a ball, she touches her nose to mine. I can feel her purring in my chest. There is something about this little ball of fluff that makes this house feel like home. I used to "put her to bed" in my bathroom when she was a kitten by tucking her into the blankets in the bathtub and playing my Beauty and The Beast music box. Now she puts me to bed.

I wake up in the morning because Nala is sitting on my chest again - no need to set an alarm clock at home. As usual, I scoop her up and go crawl into bed with my mom. We lay there and decide on our plan of attack for the day. Then we blow a fuse in the house with our dueling blow dryers and I have to run outside with wet hair to switch the breaker back - something I knew was inevitable. I know this house. Somehow two blow dryers is equivalent to an entire tree full of Christmas lights, the vacuum, the television, the DVD player and an iPod charger. Trust me, I've done the math.

Eventually I make the drive out to see Bear: A ritual in my visits to home. As I step out of the car, my mind registers the smells and sounds that were the soundtrack to my childhood. I ring the bell, and watch as Bear canters up the hill with Dancer a few strides behind (ironic that Bear's name is Dancing Bear and he lives with a horse named Dancer). Words cannot express what he means to me or how he has changed my life. There are words I could attempt to use but they all feel insignificant. He looks so handsome as he walks into his stall, impatiently waiting for me to bring over his pellets and hay. He nickers as I approach and plunges his nose into the feeder. I brush him and run my hands over everything to make sure he doesn't have any bumps my eyes would miss. He looks good. No, great. There is a happiness radiating from him that is infectious. With a mouthful of pellets, he swings his large head around to look at me, ears perked forward as if to say, "Whatcha doin? Find anything? Oh by the way, I love you." The way I know he said "I love you" is because he slobbered all over my arm.

This is my life in Roseville: Comprised of people and animals that have changed me in such a profound way. My life here is different than it used to be, but I love it just the same. How could I not? I get to spend time with my mom and dad, snuggle all night with my cat, get kisses from my horse, and catch up with old friends. This is the house that built me. Welcome.