My House and I Are Both Elders

Realizing that my house is old-school style, my style.

Although not quite the dwelling in the photo above, my little house does compare to a cabin, surrounded by trees. Wood outside, and lots of wood inside. I love wood, both indoors and out. I thank the trees and feel their touch and warmth and comfort. 

Recently I took a tour of a senior living community, and I began to realize that modern decor is quite different than my style. 

The decor in these lovely one-and two-bedroom homes in this community that I visited is airy, open, with neutral colors and filled with light. What most people seem to love. 

I bought my house over 20 years ago and have loved it. I love its wood ceilings with big wood beams, wood paneling (which I have read can decrease your house’s value, although not in my eyes), hardwood floors, small bedrooms and rooms that are actually rooms and not an open style. People call it cozy. A word that realtors use to make small sound better. I call it cozy, embracing, soothing, comforting, my safe space. 

I feed my young neighbor’s kitties while they are on vacation and realize that their much newer home is also of this open style. Open with shades of white, grey, and neutral tones. Very lovely, and perfect for this young family. They entertain a lot, and this house suits them. 

I recently read one of those articles that talk about what dates things (or as I say, elderizes them) and people. Apparently, my house is quite dated. It has a few skylights, but otherwise is not a light-filled house. I have always loved having corners and nooks and crannies that I could retreat to. Open style gives me nowhere to retreat, and for my introverted and quiet side, retreat and sanctuary are things that I seek in whatever space I am in, looking for the dark corners somewhere. 

I love winter. Although I live in the bay area of California, where winter is defined by rain (unless we are in one of our droughts) versus snow, I love the rain and the soothing quality of it. I used to love the snow as well when I lived in Michigan (although maybe not driving in it so much). I love things about the darkness and the dark time of the year. 

But apparently that is not such a marketable quality for real estate. 

My furniture is darker and has a lot of wood in it. I do, to be honest, need to replace the couch, and am not sure which way to go. If I move, it may well be to a different space. So, perhaps I will wait to see where I end up living before buying anything. I may end up moving to a more light filled and more open space, who knows? l think that I am adaptable and can make that work.

 Still, it surprises me that even my house shouts elder when someone walks in. It has signs of aging (being only two years younger than I am), and I am ok with that. 

And now I realize that the decor also speaks of age.

Who knew?

I hear about this theme of what makes things shout their elderness a lot. One’s hairstyle (guilty here of that as well, I think). One’s clothes (I really don’t pay much attention to my clothes these days, going more for comfort than style). And now my house. We are old and dated together. We are elders. 

 I am ok with that. I love the way that my house feels to me when I walk in, or when I have a fire going in the fireplace that is surrounded by bricks. I love walking into the quietness of my home and out of the busyness of the world. I love walking into my dated home. My dated body and face feel at home there. 

I also have noticed something else. When people come in, they seem to feel that coziness and comfort and quietness. They settle in. They sometimes even sigh. 

Maybe they feel that way with me too. Maybe they feel that I can listen and hear them, hold their concerns, and that they can feel safe and settle in. I hope so. Far from perfect, I do my best, in my fallible human way, to be present with people. To hear them. To see them. To hold their spirits. Like my house holds me and my spirit. We dated beings can have much to offer, I think.

So here we are, my house and I. Aging together. Proudly wearing our dated styles. Being together in owning it. Being together in being different and being behind the times. Being ok with how we look and feel. Mostly. 

My house is a cozy cabin. My spirit is called to this. My soul is like a cozy cabin as well, at home in the redwoods, in forests, in darkness as well as light. 

I am an elder. I can give comfort and space and wisdom at times. I can give solace. I can offer my home to do the same. And embrace it. It expresses me. When you walk into my home, it can tell you who I am. What is important to me. How I live. If that appeals to you, that’s great. If not, that’s ok too. When I am no longer here, others can modify it and update it to their liking.

 But, until then, come into my cozy little elder cabin in the woods. Sit down, relax, breathe. You are welcome here.