By Natasha Josefowitz, Ph.D.
LA JOLLA, California — A bird’s nest, a wolf’s den, a bear’s cave, a dog’s kennel or cardboard box, a person’s room or house or apartment or castle–these are the sanctuaries, the safe places where one retreats to bear and raise one’s young, to hide from predators, to seek refuge from the world.
A cave or a hole dug into a stone wall sheltered our ancestors. Today we have four walls, a roof, a floor. In some places it is a wall made of sun-dried mud bricks with cow dung for mortar, a straw roof, and an earthen floor. In other places it is corrugated cardboard walls with a piece of sheet metal for the roof.
Then there are barracks for soldiers or migrant workers, cots in rows in homeless shelters, dorm rooms for students, rented rooms in boarding houses, maids’ rooms, beach cottages, mountain cabins, condos in high rises, houses with small yards or large gardens, farms, estates, castles.
What they all have in common is a name: Home. It is a place to return to after a day away, a place to rest, to replenish oneself. It can also be a place of strife, of more work cooking and cleaning, but at the end of the day there is a bed, four walls, a roof against the elements–safety.
Those of us who can, buy a house, fix it up, furnish it, and live in it. This house represents who we are–a part of ourselves for the world to see. It is our home and an ego-extension. It is not just a location or a style of hous–nor is it only landscape or decor. It is the fulfillment of dreams or lack of; it is the place of comfort, of refuge, of privacy. A place we can take our clothes off, put our feet up, and be ourselves without the demands of the outside world.
Many of life’s most emotional moments happen in our homes. The walls resonate with the memories of dialogues, of tears and laughter, of children’s voices, of parents long gone.
We look to create the perfect home environment for ourselves, for our families. We spend time buying furniture, deciding on fabrics, on colors for our walls, on the material for our floors: tile, marble, wood, carpet–all give different messages to the visitor: formal or cozy, grand or fun, traditional or innovative. Our homes tell on us; they tell our secrets.
What we place in our homes are symbols of ourselves. Walking around someone’s home, we understand the person who lives there better. What are the pictures on the walls, what photos are out, what are the books on the shelves, how is the furniture arranged? Does the home have little furniture and few objects or is it cluttered as mine is?
And then there is the color scheme. Is it neutral and peaceful, is it colorful and exciting? I once visited Audrey Hepburn in her house near Geneva, Switzerland. Everything was white in the living room, and she wore white, but the library was in primary colors. So she blended into her living room, but contrasted in her library. It was very dramatic, and it fit a great actress.
We can fall in love with a house, grow into it, and then outgrow it and move on to something larger, or move to a smaller house or apartment, move to the city or the country.
But every home we have ever lived in will also live within us. We are the sum of all our living spaces and recreate wherever we go some small part of where we have been–of who we were.
My daughter had just finished building her house, which was still empty, when my mother died. We shipped my mother’s furniture to Toronto and in one day my daughter had her living room, dining room, and two bedrooms furnished. One grandson sleeps in his grandfather’s bed, and the guest room where I sleep when I visit has my mother’s bed. The wonder of it was that somehow I did not have to leave my Beverly Hills family home–where I grew up–it was recreated in Canada and whenever I stay there I feel embraced by the familiar surroundings.
It is wonderful when certain treasured family belongings can move either with us as we move or go to our children for them to pass on to the next generation. These become our heirlooms, our treasures, our memories; they fill up our homes and make them the sanctuaries that draw us back to elicit the familiar response: “It’s so good to be home.”
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Josefowitz is a freelance writer, whose work also appears in La Jolla Village News. She may be contacted at natasha.josefowitz@sdjewishworld.com