Living Here

“Have you settled in now?” one of our new neighbors asked me the other day.  And it occurred to me that yes, we have settled in.  It has not yet been three weeks, but it already feels like home.  Going into the kitchen in the morning, making coffee, carrying a cup out onto the front porch to listen to the morning birds.  Having lunch at the bistro table out there, too, the one made from the Lazy Susan we bought in that little shop in Duck under the live oak trees, with the tablecloth from France. 

All of the furniture and art that we loved the most found a home here and seemed to magically fit.  Even the cupboard in the kitchen, with some minor woodworking modifications, fit in the space between the two storage closets.  And you might have thought that the three Oriental rugs were specifically chosen for the spaces they filled.  Even the piano, that my Dad used for piano lessons in Florida and that I have enjoyed playing partly for that reason, was maneuvered into the back bedroom that I call my own, where my desk and reading chair are set up.  I still have more than a dozen boxes of books to sort through, most of which will be donated, but that will be enjoyable. 

It is the same with us.  We fit perfectly here, on the quiet end of a Highlands that has changed over the years, that has become a place where the very wealthy can be seen shopping and dining on Main Street.  “All of the botoxed women with blank faces and two-hundred-dollar hats pushing posh dogs in baby carriages are at the other end of Town, where the shops are,” I explained to one of our neighbors.  “At this end of Town, we see healthy, athletic people out walking their dogs, running, or on their way up to Sunset or the Nature Center.”  We are surrounded by Highlands Biological Station and Land Trust property to the south and the east, an expanse of green lawn to the North, and a piece of property to the west that will never develop.  Two houses west is the old Hutchinson house, named after one of the two founders of the Town, in which Martha’s maternal grandmother was born.  We are in fact on property once owned by her ancestors.  It feels, especially for her, as if we have come home.

On Wednesday, Martha’s cousin and her husband, who live in Arden, came to visit, and we hiked up Sunset Mountain and then through the Nature Center and gardens – leaving and returning right from out front door.  Our back yard!  And on Friday night, we invited Martha’s brother Scott for dinner.  Scott helped us move much of the heavier pieces of furniture here, and he was overwhelmed by the transformation since he had last seen it.

That was finally what made it feel like home.  Not just the art we have hung on the walls (most of it, anyway), the final touches of decorating, and the sound of a piano playing, but inviting friends and family to the table.  This week was actually the first time we have dined in the dining room; the rest of our lunches and dinners have been at the bistro table. 

You can finally call a place home when you can extend the gift of hospitality.