You know they say home is where the heart is, and apperently there is no place like it. I think over time the meaning of a home blossomed in my world. I have always felt at home where ever I was living or staying, so it wasn’t like a house was any different from a home. It wasn’t till about three years ago when I got a better understanding of what it takes for me to feel at home. Our family house was finished and now I had a home in South Komlik.
I had lived in apartments and teacher housing for my younger years. Ever since third grade I’ve been dabbling in musical instruments. The violin, saxophone, keyboard, but it wasn’t till the seventh grade when I started to gravitate towards the guitar. It was Nirvana, it was Cobain. I learned how to read tabs, memorized the main chords. I just needed one around me, I have a couple of acoustic guitars, couple electric, they just make me feel at home.
I don’t really consider myself a musician but music is just an element of my life that stays around me. I admire anyone that donates time to their craft or artwork. My home holds several art pieces inside. Yucca baskets, wire baskets, pottery, and paintings are scattered all over the house. These one of a kind works of art were either gifts or things I inherited, yet the house would not be the same without them. The painting my dad did hangs in the living room and always gets a reaction from anyone who inquires about the acrylic mountain and lake scenery.
Another essential thing about my home is my workspace, it seems I don’t utilize it as much as I should, it still means everything. My desk where I put all my notes and my computer where I write and record music. This small corner in my room is just this magical place where I keep all my work. It’s where I hang up my thank you cards and put important moments of my life to display. I have a certificate on the wall that reminds me of the time I went to Mexico with my instructor Phillip and they were calling me Sky Angelo.
That time I went to Magdelena, the people were making a drink I had never had before. They used a type of flower and it reminded me of how at home I would make cinnamon tea. Boiling the cinnamon with the tea is a pastime of my life. Everywhere I lived, I made cinnamon tea, so this is something essential to my home. I even have a specific pot for the cinnamon tea. A pot that my mom says we stole from our Auntie Rachael. I guess the pot too, is an essential thing that makes this place a home.
The final piece is all the photographs taken on family road trips. The ones of my niece where she is brave with the macaw. All the road trips out of state are so memorable but during those times of adventure, we always came home. I think it only takes a guitar, a pot, some art, a few great pictures of my family having crazy times out in the world to make a home.