my first house

Do you remember the first house you lived in? I do.

We lived on a quiet street in the west end of Toronto. There were a ton of kids my age and we would spend our days roaming the streets on our bikes and going to the park. There were tons of games of hide and seek running between the backyards and we knew we could count on neighbours to open their doors if we needed anything. It was rather idyllic and, in retrospect, and feels like a rare neighbourhood today.

The house faced west and was shaded from the afternoon sun by the massive tree in the front yard. It had a classic centre hall plan. When you entered, you were greeted by the living room to your left, the dining room to your right and the stairs to the second floor just ahead. I remember friends gathering around the dining room table for my birthday parties, family holiday occasions in the living room and quiet evenings with my Mom and sister eating dinner in the kitchen when my Dad was working late. My favourite meal was mac 'n cheese with cut up hot dogs mixed in. Gross!

Upstairs, my bedroom was at the front of the house next to the bathroom. I loved that room and spent hours there. I don't recall what it looked like but I remember where the bed was positioned on the wall and the long dresser that sat opposite it. Mostly I remember it being cosy and that I liked to keep it organized. My parents had a little sitting area in their bedroom across the hall and we curled up watching Princess Diana and Prince Charles getting married one super early July morning.

It was a house full of loving details. Mom was creative in how she made the house uniquely our own. She wouldn't hesitate to whip out her paint brush or sewing machine to get a project done and everything had a place so it could be easily tidied. It wasn't a huge house but every space worked for what we needed (or at least that is what I remember as a young girl!).

When I was about eight we moved to a bigger home in a totally different part of the city. It was a huge move leaving our little cocoon and I missed my neighbourhood friends and teachers at my old school. One of my friends likened it to moving across the country and, after I moved, we would have sleepovers at each others' houses making sure to bring our bikes and a massive bag of belongings for the big trip across the city. I missed that house but over time, as I made friends in our new neighbourhood, I thought about it less and less.

Now that I am grown and have owned homes of my own I am realizing how significant the influence of that first house was for me. I gravitate towards spaces that are on the smaller side. Each room in my homes tends to serve multiple purposes and can evolve as needed. I love homes that feel collected over time and reflect the lives and personalities of those who inhabit them. I like to be able to feel the presence of everyone in the house and find comfort in knowing that all my chicks are tucked into the nest even when we aren't in the same room.

I love spaces that are colourful, yet calm with art on the walls that tells a story or evokes a feeling when I look at it. I love natural light and big leafy trees which meant that when we were looking for our current home our search was narrowed to a mature neighbourhood and a house that let light in throughout the day.

We all have the ability to close our eyes and dream about our ideal home. How it looks. How it feels. Where it is located. Maybe what you want in a home now is the complete opposite of what you knew growing up. Knowing what you don't like is just as important as knowing what you do. I have learned a lot about my philosophy at home by looking back at what I knew as a young girl and observing how my homes have evolved since.

Maybe what I remember about that first house is nothing like what it actually was. A few years ago, I drove through the neighbourhood and the house is still there. Most of the homes have undergone renovations but the feel of the neighbourhood is the same. I suspect some of my memories are pretty accurate - even though the memory of a school aged girl can be selective. It's a feeling that has stuck with me over years.

I would love to know ... has your childhood home influenced how you live at home today?

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