Home is a sacred place.

Home is a sacred place. A refuge, a place to have a cuppa and just relax. Every picture on every wall tells a story. Every plate and cup. Childhood mornings spent in the PJ’s. Running around the yard with the smell of freshly mown grass. All destroyed by the inevitable parting from the family home. I feel for Nikki Gemmell as she helped dismantle a home. (September 21st) There is the grief of a loved one leaving that home. Plus the grief of knowing you will never go back to that home again. Having had to dismantle my father’s home and by association my long departed mother who was still everywhere there. With every shelf and cupboard I was caught. The sense of betrayal is still so vivid at having to let go of so many of those everyday objects. All anyone really wants is that they go to good home again. But the logistics of somehow recreating a special place for it all is a hopeless case. It may have only been an old brush, coffee table or serving bowl. But it was home to me.