scribblechic

There are beautiful houses, but homes share stories.  I admire those who can fill the shell of a house with personality; it is an art form, a language of love.  I have been waiting for, passively seeking out, pieces of art for my walls hoping to create such a home.  A place of comfort and joy, serenity and inspiration, memories and dreams.  Art has always felt very intimate to me and so most of our art are either framed children’s creations or family photographs.  Today I bought a simple piece of art that makes my heart smile.  This is its story.

My son and I were enjoying a quiet morning together as we sat on a park bench, he with his favorite donut and I with my morning coffee.  We watched pedestrians pass and store fronts slowly come to life as we waited for a particular boutique to open.  Unhurried and making conversation, I explained we were looking for a gift for his sister’s friend.  I neglected to specify.  I needed a necklace and it was this search that would lead to the happy discovery, the piece of art that followed us home.

The necklace came before the art and so I must explain.  My daughter learned her birthday party was scheduled to coincide with her best friend’s birthday.  Mindful that her party not cast a shadow on her friend’s day, she asked me to find a friendship necklace for her friend while she was busy at summer school.   This simple request had led me to the boutique, on this morning, with my son as my companion.  I was sorting tangled chains trying to decipher the various charms in search of the perfect friendship trinket when my son declared he had found the perfect gift for his sister’s friend.  I followed the sound of his voice to the back of the store where he was perched next to a long wooden form, chalkboard black with white stenciled words wrapping its length.  He read the words out loud and these words filled the air around us:

you are the cheese to my macaroni you are the horizon to my sky you are the bacon to my eggs you are the laces to my sneakers you are the jelly to my peanut butter you are the smile to my face you are the gravy to my mashed potatoes you are the bubbles to my bath you are the milk to my cookie you are the ink to my pen you are the ketchup to my french fries you are the water to my ocean you are the icing on my cupcake

He read it as printed, rushing from sentiment to sentiment without pause, words filled with whimsy and love.  My son saw the plaque as a gift of friendship, but it seemed to exemplify the ridiculously fun, simple, silly, beautiful, imperfectly perfect life inside my home.  The bubble baths my daughter lingers in; the laces my son ties clumsily with frustration; summer lunches of macaroni and cheese or peanut butter and jelly; the milk and cookies that signify a stolen moment at the kitchen island before bedtime.  I also see the plate of warm cookies and milk from my wedding night and anniversary evenings at the hotel my husband and I were married; the heavy breakfasts of eggs and bacon to ward of the winter chill; mashed potatoes and gravy over declarations of gratitude on Thanksgiving; walking hand in hand with my husband towards our future someplace both familiar and new like the blue of the ocean or a cloudless horizon.  Simple and reassuring I see my love for my children and husband as well as their connections with one another and the friends that bring added joy to our home.

Somewhere between family photos and children’s artwork I will find a place for this new, lovely piece of our story.

Tagged: Art, Family, Home