I've thought a lot about home this trip. I don't live in California now, but having been born, raised and gone to college here, it will always be home. Driving around, thinking, "Oh cool, a CA license plate," then realizing they are ALL Calif plates.
My dad's house.
While I never really lived in this house, oddly enough it feels like home.
My parents built the house, whose construction was not completed until shortly before I left for college. Whenever I am here I am reminded of how much I was involved in the design process!
Mostly I notice my choices in the bathroom. It's yellow! My favorite color at 18. It was designed to be shared by my sister & me. The tub is the perfect length for my height; I tested out tubs at the bath supply house til I found one that fit. The shower head is set at the perfect height for a 5'5" person to shower and not get her hair wet! The last time I waxed poetic on this feature, my husband (who is 6') remarked that the shower head is not ideal for everyone! Oh well. This trip I noticed the bathroom window, which is set high in the wall and gives light but complete privacy.
The view from my bedroom, early morning.
My childhood home,
A typical Valley ranch house,
fer shure!
That's my old bedroom window on the left.
A most important icon of my childhood -- the street light!
The rule was, when the light came on, it was time to go home.
But some nights, usually the weekend or summers, some group of the 20 neighborhood kids would gather under it for a rousing game of "kick the can."
Next I drove to my elementary school, past friends' houses, even going so far to see if I could find an old boyfriend's house. I found the street, have no idea which house was his.
Then along Ventura Blvd toward the freeway and my mom's place.
Say what you will about driving in LA. Having learned to drive here, it was really easy to negotiate. And no one honked at me the entire day!
When I left my dad's, I drove south toward my mom's home. In between is much of my life before marriage: my childhood home, the gully at the corner where I played as a kid, schools, friends' houses, even the streets & freeways where I learned to drive. I was smiling all day -- I am a nostalgic marshmallow! Not many photos. I have so many in my head, I didn't stop, just drove and felt at home!
A typical Valley ranch house,
fer shure!
And another high bathroom window, no wonder they feel right, I've always had them.
The rule was, when the light came on, it was time to go home.
But some nights, usually the weekend or summers, some group of the 20 neighborhood kids would gather under it for a rousing game of "kick the can."
Next I drove to my elementary school, past friends' houses, even going so far to see if I could find an old boyfriend's house. I found the street, have no idea which house was his.
Then along Ventura Blvd toward the freeway and my mom's place.
Say what you will about driving in LA. Having learned to drive here, it was really easy to negotiate. And no one honked at me the entire day!
2 comments:
Hi There, greetings from Brisbane, Australia. I was on Beach vintage and loved the sound of your blog name so thought id have a little we look. Had to comment once i read the reference part. So who was the better author Emily Bronte or Jane Austin?
Love the pics of your home's from California. Ive never been but it looks lovely. Have a wonderful day by the way i am new at this blogging business how do you find and add these cute buttons to the right of your page? Stacey.
we didn't have a street light on our actual street, but we still had the same rules... i think we went by house lights turned on. funny. one last game of kick the can always got slipped in ...
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