Son #4 and family moved house this weekend. They are settled in and have beds to sleep in and blinds at the windows, but there are all sorts of outstanding jobs that need done. Going to a new place to live is one of the post stressful things in our lives. It takes energy, sweat, toil, tears, memories and laughter…..and it is amazing when you look back over a lifetime to think of all the places you have lived.
Before I got married I lived in at least six different houses – there may have been a couple more than that, the end of the World War ll muddled things up a bit. They were all in cities and the most of my growing up was in London. When HBTW and I got married we continued in the tradition of moving around……… mainly to follow work or business opportunities. 14 different houses ending up in Dalamory in amongst the mountains. I always used to think I would like to retire to Argyll and assumed it would be beside the sea. It is indeed Argyll but we are surrounded by breathtaking mountains instead.
During our wanderings we have stayed in bungalows, flats, terraced houses, semi-detached, detached properties (better for keeping the noise of a growing family well away from any neighbours.) We have had large gardens, small gardens and no gardens. We have had good neighbours always and beautiful views as well as the more mundane. As I write this it I think of the Israelites roaming in the desert in Bible Times. I feel sad and aggrieved for refugees or those who have no home. Home is indeed the place where you can be yourself. Somewhere at the end of the day where you can lay your head and relax into the business of restorative sleep.