In the fall of 1961, a smiling couple poses for a photo. The handsome man drapes his arm around his lovely bride while she holds their three-month-old daughter. In the background, the family ranch stretches across the mesa.
Home for me has several implications. It is doused in memories of the people and places that offer sweet memories of the past, joy in the moment, and all the promises for the future. Life was not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. It was sometimes uneasy, and painful and raw; still, love found its way into my life and tangled my heart with many that I hold so dear. Deep within, I know I have been blessed with the love and companionship of family and friends. I have cherished them all.
At the age of four, my family moved to Alameda, California. This little island tucked away in the San Francisco Bay showcased many Victorian homes. These beauties included everything from quaint cottages to astounding mansions and varying sizes in between. While living on the island, children that lived in these houses, often told wild tales about secret rooms or spoke of hidden treasure. My brothers and I would often search for hidden rooms and fortune too. When I was five or six, I did find a prize, an antique teapot from Holland. Continue reading “My Island Home”