Monday, 26 October 2009

Reflections on a home

My home is not just where I live.

It is where I laboured to bring forth my always cherished, magnificent, beloved babies.

It is where I dream and create my future.

It is the place I feel safe, and can relax my tense jaw and wriggle my toes.

It is where no one can get at me; unlike in the rest of the world where someone could get at me.

It is where I gobble down the books I re-read and the latest books I discover.

It is the fortress of my life and I sing in it and dance in it, and no one laughs at me because I haven't a voice like Leona Lewis or a body like Katie Price.

It is where my children hug my around my ample middle without anyone criticising them for being Mummy's girls.

It is where they feel safe and cherished and they can laugh and chaff and chatter and stay up late discussing the law and computer games and their future and their past.

It is where they can plaster make-up over their sweet faces and make mistakes and cream off the errors.

It is where they can don their faded, torn jeans and not have someone decide that they are neglected.

It is where they do not have to be on show or talk about age-specific things or talk at all if they don't want to.

It is so much more than a building. It is where we are happy and free.

It is not an educational institution.

It is a sanctuary.

And I will fight to keep it that way.


  1. wow that's lovely :-)
    wish my home felt like that !!

  2. Thank you, well said - I should probably spend more time there!

  3. Shakespeare:

    The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven's lieutenants.

    Shakespeare always says it right, doesn't he? Anyway, just letting you know I approve as always. :)