Home (Day 1)

For me, Home  is the comfort and familiarity of my own bed.

As a business traveler, I enjoy the luxury of a bed I don’t have to share with a husband, a dog and a couple of cats.

I love the feel of clean sheets every night and the softness of a good mattress.

I delight in the silence of a good book.

But at the end of the week

I am thrilled to come home a dirty sheets, to a dog that takes her half of the bed out of the middle and to cats that announce it is time to get up by scratching at the window blinds. I feel blessed to have a husband who insists on telling me all about his book while I am trying to read mine.

Nothing say HOME like my own bed.

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Writing101 – Day Eleven

Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?

The year was 1969. A lot going on that year. Richard Nixon took the oath of office as the 37th President of the United States and Neil Armstrong leaves the first human footprint on the moon. A new counter-culture took shape with Woodstock and the Beatles break-up ended a musical era. It was a year of unbelievable atrocities, of Charles Manson, the Vietnam War and My Lai.

And for me, 1969 was the pivotal year between childhood and teenage. It was the year I turned twelve.