What built me
If you have heard Miranda Lambert’s song by the same name, you will probably know what I am going to talk about. Of course, it is about the house where I grew up!
You are where you are born:
This is so true because as you are growing up you imbibe a lot from your surroundings and also when you are growing up you do not much realize but every bit of your surrounding and in a big way your house and your parents contribute largely to the person who you will be when you grow up.
Fond memories of childhood home:
My home was the one that dad himself built and mom was the one who kept ideating and telling him what she wants where. I must have been five or six years old and I remember them poring over house and garden magazines thinking and discussing about the best lay out for the house or the best use for the rooms. Sometimes, dad would suddenly get a brainwave in the middle of the night and in all his excitement get up and go to his workstation and sketched till morning dawned.
The house itself:
The house turned out to be beautiful inside and out. I loved the high ceilings with the wooden beams running parallel to each other. The floor was half wooden and half carpeted and I remember vividly playing and dozing mid way on the floor itself and then daddy would pick me up from the floor and put me on my bed. What magical days they were!
I reminiscent everything:
I remember waking up to the sound of the radiators pressed into work by daddy so that the children woke up warm from the bed in chilly mornings, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from mum’s kitchen was a wake-up call that breakfast was ready to be laid and last but not the least, the ringing of the cycle bell of dad’s best friend who called on each morning to have a cup of English tea with him.
I sometimes wish I could go back there and live those memories again!