I’ve been spending almost all of my time at home, for weeks now. First, there was the move that the bookstore was making, and there wasn’t going to be a place for me to work until things were settled in the new space, so I brought my office home. That fit the timing for the surgery I was going to have, which meant that I’d need to be home to recuperate.
The surgery (repair to scar tissue left from previous surgeries) went well, but the work did not. I was working on our website as usual, but while I was, the bookstore was making some hard decisions. The website was eliminated, and so was my job.
Losing my job is a subject for another time. What I’m thinking about today is how much I love my home, my tiny space, my little calm place. It was remade by my sister Sarah when she came to be with me for the surgery, and on the final day, just a few hours before she had to leave, we took pictures of the amazing transformation. My mother’s dresser, her little overnight case on top; my knitting spot on the couch, the new television. There’s much more that you can’t see in one photograph.
And there in the middle: the beautiful, beautiful quilt Sarah made for me, which she put the finishing touches on while I was sleeping.
There’s no place like home, is there?
Not Plain Jane 