Home sweet home
On a Saturday morning, my family got together and had a big meal at home. After eating lunch, my two elder sisters were playing their bamboo flute Herders new song, my young brother was sweeping his floor and my parents were watching TV. I couldn’t decide if it was the warm mug of tea cupped in my hands or the sense of harmony that seemed out of character in a house that had become a war zone as of late, but I realized how crucial it is that a home be a peaceful place away from the turmoil of work and school.
A safe home is not only to do with physical elements, such as security camera, smoke detector, etc, but also referring to the ”atmosphere” of a home—or maybe “soul” is the definitive word. I recall one weekend ago, visiting a college friend’s elaborate home. I was so impressed that each bedroom had its own bathroom with the thickest, most luxurious towels. Yet that detail seemed marred by the chilling silence that existed between her parents—a silence so loud that I still recall it vividly.
I also remember a rather ramshackle house on the suburbs of my hometown. The lady who lived there was a seamstress, a kind woman who listened with eyes that smiled through peculiar blue-rimmed glasses. One evening when I went to pick up a dress, she and her husband, Dave, with the oil-field grime scrubbed from his skin, sat at the table with their kids. They were eating plain food, laughing loudly and on that evening, their home, with its worn furniture and framed paint-by-number artwork, was clearly one of the finest.
What a sweet family they are. They never complained about life even though they had hard time life. I think they will deserve a good life in the future.
No matter where you live, sweet home is a place where it is filled with love.