This is my first guest writer Jill. Jill and I have been friends for over 20 years. Our sons went to school together for many years. Isn’t it great the good friends we make through our children? Anyway, enjoy her story! I found it warm and interesting! Carla
As a child, my favorite book was “The Little House”. The story is about a little pink house that was built in the country. The author, Virginia Lee Burton, referred to the house as “she” and the illustrations made the house’s windows look like eyes and the steps look like a mouth. It sounds creepy as I write this, but it was the total opposite. It was soothing and calming. Children played in the yard running, swimming, and sledding; marking the seasons from spring to winter, while the little house watched and was grateful for the simplicity of the day. It was beautifully written and illustrated. The book was magical to me.
As a child growing up in upstate New York, I loved nature and the seasons. Running in my yard, riding my bike, swimming, picking apples, and climbing up to my tree house kept me busy from the spring till early fall. In October, I would come inside flushed red by the brisk night air. I liked to stay outside for as long as I could, savoring the magic of exploring nature. Winters in New York required intense levels of preparation. I remember it taking an extra 20 to 30 minutes to don the 5 extra layers of clothing needed before I could step outside and explore. My friends and I resembled the little kid from “A Christmas Story”.
Within “The Little House’s” pages, I saw scenes that I could relate to and loved. I loved the calmness of nature – birds flying, the changing of the trees, the changes in the sun and the moon’s phases. The pink little house was happy, surrounded by nature’s beauty, but she wondered what life was like in the big city.
Then, everything changed for the little house as a city quickly grew up around her. The little house went from daydreaming about the big city to becoming engulfed by it. Fortunately, in the end, the little house was moved out of the city and back into the countryside. Like a child growing up, the little house endures changes and, in the end, realizes that she is happiest amongst the daisies on the hill. She is happiest in the country.
I find that I’m reminiscing about this book due to a big life change coming up for me. My husband and I are moving from our 2-year rental to the home we just bought. I’ve also been realizing lately that some of my first childhood loves (like being closer to nature) are still my greatest loves. I’ve realized I can’t ignore them or make them smaller because it’s not good when I do. I need to incorporate those first loves into my present life to be my happiest self. For me, it’s not a want. It is a need and that is ok. We all need different things to be our best selves.
I used to live in the city, and at first, I enjoyed it, but I found towards the end that my experience living there was not benefiting me. Like the little house, I felt engulfed. I was afraid of situations and people that could do me harm. Unlike functional cities where I get a strong sense of a cultural hub and a vibrant artistic livelihood, I felt that I was experiencing the problems of a city without enjoying much (if any) of the benefits. It also dawned on me that, by living there, surrounded by concrete and the occasional palm tree, I wasn’t honoring my love of nature and the seasons, and was missing many of the core things in my life that truly give me joy. I’ve realized that I am happiest when I can get outside and experience nature on a regular basis.
It can be scary to start over, but I think for me it was scarier to stay in a place that wasn’t for me anymore. I’m so happy that I’ve found a new place where I can experience my first loves on a more regular basis. I can bike, hike and take in so much natural beauty. It has been so healing for me to marvel at the beauty that I see every day, not just every so often. The view out my window, with the bay in the distance, dotted with islands and boats. The changes in the seasons. Watching eagles soar up above when it gets windy (they love that). The ability to ride my bike on a trail surrounded by ferns that overlooks the bay. Just simple things really, but to me they become huge. It’s like experiencing a bit of magic in the simplicity. I know it’s not for everyone… it gets gray here, but that is not what I’m searching for. I think we have a lot of pressure in this world to want similar things, like similar outfits, similar outcomes for our kids, similar vacations, etc.
I believe that by listening to our inner voice and returning to our first loves, we can bring more magic into our lives. I’ve been searching for the loves that speak to me and I’ve found something special in nature here. It’s healing and it speaks to me like something from long ago. Like the little house, I’ve been reunited with one of my first loves, once again embracing the seasons, feeling content and grateful that through all the changes that life brings, I’ve found my way back home.
What a lovely story.