Safe Places

I was out playing with Tara on one of  our beautiful September afternoons.   The other kids had vanished with their various friends on various ‘schemes’ and the exuberance of childhood was in the air….a last gasp before the long dark nights settle in.

Tara loves to walk.  She had purposely made her way to her to the little playground near her Nana’s house….the house of my teen and adult years.

I realized then that I had played with each child the same way on the same slide at the same age.

I had watched Adam figure out how to climb up there, and then Caity and now Tara.

Time passes.

Apart from my brief stint as a newlywed living the ‘cool’ life on the west side of town…I have been in this rental housing complex for almost 28 years.

Owning it or not….this place has been home.    It is the only home my children know.  It is their place, their neighbourhood.   They know every nook and cranny.  Every ‘secret’ place.  Every climbing tree. Every ‘short cut’ and ‘hidden’ trail.   This has been their world.

Home can mean many things to many people.     My mom and I talk about regrets about not buying a place.   Not securing ourselves better.  Not making better financial plans as we grew together…before husbands and children were in the picture.

But we – despite it just being rental – felt safe and comfortable here.  Mom made the little townhouse hers.   We came with nothing.  Filled it with second hand goods that were slowly replaced by new.   Now, mom loves her home.   She fears them taking it from her.

She regrets not securing a ‘safer’ place for her now……but home buying really just didn’t cross our minds too much.

Not with her past…not with her ‘luck.’

So here we are.   Here I am with my family.

And yes we grumble.  We grumble about the condition of  the place, of the care, of it not being like it used to be.  We complain about the ‘type’ of people that live here.  But here we are.

And grumble or not….the place has done us good.   It is safe.   It is in a good area.  It is in a beautiful area…if you love trees and nature at your doorstep.

We are lucky.  Very.

It is home for now…..

Not just a house to the kids…it is their home.    Their place.

What I learned via the experiences in MY childhood is that home isn’t necessarily an address.  And not even one that you own.  Or the bank.  Home is what and where you make it.  Not matter your circumstances.  Home is that place that you should….need to feel safe.  Your bolt hole so to speak.  The place where you can be.

I have always suffered mild depression.  Probably for as long as I can remember.  Nothing officially set in stone.  Nothing that doctors have made any real effort to deal.   I have gone for therapy on the odd occasion.   Taken meds too.   But the feelings have been there for a very long time….long enough to be really just be part of who I am.

And who I was and am was a person who could squirrel themselves off away somewhere safe…..and alone…or not.  Because really, how can you be alone when you have three kids!!

Home for me really has been a door I could close against the world….even just for a brief respite.

I remember summers as a teen…..I didn’t have a lots of friends.    So when mom was working, I spent a lot of time home alone.  I would sit in the back yard, surrounded by the trees, lost in books and while away the hours…..and I honestly don’t really remember ever feeling terribly lonely.    Just safe.

This made me understand full well the pain it must have caused my husband to sell his parents home after his mom passed away.   Letting go of that SAFE place.   Letting go of home.

For me safe had always really meant mom.    I could only imagine how he felt with his mom gone and then having to let go of that ‘door’…that place…..even if it was just a memory.   A feeling.

We still talk about how cozy we felt cuddled up in his basement bedroom when we were dating.  Safe.

We all need a safe place.

Patrick feels enormous pressure to keep his family ‘safe.’    I feel though that as long as we are together, we will be safe…no matter what.    No matter money, housing, rentals, jobs, etc….If our children feel safe then nothing else really matters…..safe can be anywhere….I did learn that.   From making homes out of hovels.  From feeling comfortable in the spare rooms of kind friends.   Safe really is a state of mind more than anything.

Though I do admit….I love my tiny yard.  Even if it sometimes isn’t pretty.  I love that I can look up into the swaying arms of trees that I have watched grow and change over the years, that I can hear the wind sigh through them and see the stars sparkle in between.

That has been home for me.    That has kept me sane.  That has given me peace.

That reminds me to calm down.  To breath…..to stop worrying.   TRY to stop worrying and fretting.

As long as the kids are happy.   As long as I can have my tiny quiet place in time……what else really matters as long as the kids are still having fun at that same old slide.