Labels: crooked pillows , the Shire
The house in which I grew up is the smallest house I've ever been in. When I reflect on the past twenty years of residency in it, I marvel that all family members are still alive and well and happy and thriving.
In fact, I love this house more than I love any other place I've lived (at college, that number totals 4 additional abodes). It has a distinctive smell that I only heard about until I moved away. Now I welcome it gladly after the long drive from university to here. Upon returning to college, I savor the few days that my pillow carries home's odor (akin to the smell of a cupboard that has housed the same dishes for many years).
Having now lived in a much larger house with several girls, my return this Christmas break has shed light on several family quirks. Because of the house's minute size, the family's complaints and pickings are likewise minute. For example, rarely would one hear, "Could you please pick up the living room?" Rather the very specific, "Did you straighten those pillows after you sat on the couch? " is much more common. We all complain about the shower curtain being left askew and one of the ice trays left unfilled. It is true that a single magazine left on the coffee table makes the entire room look cluttered. It's quite persnickety, if you ask me.
This week my grandmother is coming to stay with us after an arduous stay in the hospital. This means she'll be in my brother's room, who will be in my room with me. 5 adults + 1 bathroom. I switch between dread and excitement. While it will be even more crowded than usual (not to mention the sudden growth of persnickety-ness), it is a perfect example of the Lord's command to look after the widows and elderly. I so admire my parents for welcoming her into our little home without hesitation.
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Recently, some friends and I spent a lengthy time discussing what race each of us fits from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was unanimously agreed that I am a Hobbit. As I began re-reading the series yesterday, I was struck with this truth in relation to my parents. From the Prologue, entitled "Concerning Hobbits," here is a spot-on description of my parents.
Hobbits are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more numerously
formerly than they are today;
for they love peace and quiet and good tilled earth:
a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside was their favourite haunt.
They do not and did not understand or like machines...
They are little people...
Their faces were as a rule good-natured rather than beautiful,
broad, bright-eyed... with mouths apt to laughter.
They were hospitable and delighted in parties,
and in presents, which they gave away freely and eagerly accepted.
(1-2)
Though I often complain about the size of my home and nature of my family's quirkiness, I really love them, persnickety and all.
Merry Christmas, from our Hobbit Hole to yours.
I'm curious, what creatures were your roommates? I would love to own a hobbit hole
This was a good post. Your family home is vastly different from mine.
I like this post a lot, LB. You and I shall be hobbits together forever.