Thursday, July 9, 2015

Being HOME

Being Home. What does that mean? It means knowing in your heart that this is where you belong right now.

I grew up in Auburn, WA in a little house my father built on "M" St. Definitely home to me as a child, it is where I felt safe but when I turned 21 years old, I couldn't wait to move to Seattle to attend Burnley Art School where, when I walked into the classroom and saw easels and all things art, I almost wept with the feeling of belonging. When I married, had children and moved to our 13 acre Vashon Island farm, it quickly became home to me. I remember sitting in the tall grass of one of the pastures feeling so happy that the farm was ours. We belonged there.

Now once again, here in Black Diamond, WA I have that blessed feeling of being home. There is no place I would rather be. I am slowly learning where rural roads go and connect. I know how to drive to Morganville and past the house where my Grandma and Grandpa Benedetti lived. I hold dear the memories of being "up the house" with my Italian relatives and remembering the sense of belonging with those people.

This weekday morning I attended Mass in the 1911 St. Barbara's Church in Black Diamond and then drove the short distance to the Black Diamond Cemetery. While I was there, I received a nice cell call from my daughter on her way to work. The nostalgic past and the present. The sweet, bittersweet and the difficult. I find perspective and comfort in being home.


  1. Congratulations on your new home. Your nostalgia is appreciated. I received these words in an email this morning that you will enjoy, if you haven't already ran across them.
    'Certain things catch your eye, but pursue only those that capture your heart. ' - Author unknown.

  2. Thank you Barbara and Cramerette for taking time to read my somewhat lengthy post. Wishing you both a great summer.