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Health & Fitness

When Does a House Become a Home?

When is a house just a house, and when does it become a home? This is a question French philosopher Gaston Bachelard explored in his book, Poetics of Space and one I continually redefine for myself.

Originally published in 1958, just four years before Bachelard’s death, Poetics of Space was translated to English in 1994. It is one of my most treasured books.

I completed an art residency at Women’s Art Institute in Minneapolis back in 2006 and Elizabeth Erickson, the WAI founder and professor, intuited a tiny thread that connected my work and Bachelard’s philosophy and recommended the book to me.

“This is a deep, magical, densely captivating book about space, our homes, how we live in them, and how dwellings and space affect us; it is as much a book of philosophy as a work of serious literature. It will change the way you look at your home and your life, providing a deeper, more insightful relationship with the spaces you occupy.” (Amazon review).

I used to think bringing the first baby home from the hospital made a house truly a home, but as I get older and the kids grow up, I find myself searching for a new definition.

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This question of when a house becomes a home is one I’ve been pondering  more in the past few weeks. My youngest daughter is starting to make college plans, I'm embracing becoming a grandmother for the first time in October, and I am watching my new house being built just a few blocks from where I live now. I thought the process of building and moving to the new house would be easy: I’m staying in the same neighborhood, virtually a few minutes walk from where I currently live.

And, I’m building a new house that incorporates all the things I love about my current house - trim, doors, layout. I’m improving on some things like the kitchen countertop (Vetrazzo Floating Blue - I cannot wait to be surrounded by the beauty that this new kitchen will be) and a walk-in closet in my bedroom. Up until a couple of weeks ago, everything was moving along so nicely - construction-wise, emotionally, and financially. I was fired up about the progress my contractor is making, I LOVE my bank, and I started packing boxes to stage my current house so I can put it on the market.

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SIDEBAR: Another few words about my current home: this home was the culmination of my dreams. With the help of my personal coach, Laurie Phillips, I did a Vision Card about it in 2004. The Vision Card included a home near the beach where I would be inspired to create art and also work with people teaching art. I knew it had to be within a few minutes walking distance of the beach and downtown Half Moon Bay, newly constructed and preferably built by Tom Carey.  Less than a year after creating that card, late on a Saturday night in October,  I saw an ad for a house that met all these criteria. By Monday afternoon, I was in contract and by Thanksgiving I had sold my townhome in Castro Valley and moved in. I am surrounded by an amazing and supportive community of friends, I teach art and I can walk to the beach.

That’s when it hit me - this current house is my home. I put away photos of my children from the mantel in the living room. I carefully packed knick-knacks that collect dust on the kitchen window into newspaper. I cleared out virtually every personal item from my bedroom. I love how clean everything is now, but I feel like I’m living in a hotel. It’s sanitary and as I scan around the living room when I come in from work, I miss not seeing my daughter and her husband’s goofy grin. I miss the snow globe my friend Cipactly gave me when I left my job where we worked together for five years. I even miss the cute little Japanese-made fake french fries that double as an eraser, or are they a candy treat? I can’t remember, but they aren’t on my kitchen window sill anymore because for sure they would freak out any prospective buyer.

These are all things that make my house a home, together with the shared memories of six years of family holiday gatherings, birthdays, and many nights of making art and watching television with my daughter quietly doing homework and the dogs barking up a storm with every bird that threatens to land in the side yard.

I will miss this home. I will miss the neighbors and especially the people I see walking past my house, on their way from Highway 1 to their homes deeper down into the Arleta Park neighborhood.  And I know when I move to the new house, I will start to make it a home by unpacking and placing those comforting things around the house, and by making shared memories with my family and friends in the space, over time.

I will have the pleasure of seeing many people - friends and strangers -  walking past my house on the way to the Poplar Street beach. And, I will cherish the fact that a new family will move into this house and start making it their home, with their own hopes and dreams and possibly some babies.


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