10/10 recommend a brief, solo visit to your childhood stomping grounds!
Recently the travel bug hit me when I realized Mira would be playing some field hockey games on the East Coast over her birthday weekend and this mama bear could give her a hug, take in some fall colors and sneak in a trip to see my childhood home. My 48 hours took me from Connecticut, to Massachusetts, back to Connecticut and then to Rhode Island – and boy did the East Coast foliage cooperate.
Happy 19th, Mira!
What does this have to do with design? Bear with me.
My first 10 years were spent in Avon, Connecticut, a quintessential small town that I haven’t visited in over 30 years. Despite the time, those core childhood memories live strong and I got to spend 24 hours walking my old neighborhood, visiting the schools, church and donut shop of my youth and crying happy/sad tears while reminiscing.
I reconnected with this sweet market.
I’m not sure I can capture how perfect the weather and foliage was – Hallmark has nothing on this gal:). I even got to see my neighbor from 37 years ago – now 75 she was literally sitting in her yard stacking firewood like any good Northeastern gal does!
Yes, please to this crisp air and golden walk.
Ok, memories aside – where is the design content?
I believe our childhood experiences do actually play a part in how we desire to experience our adult homes. (Just ask Bryn why she doesn’t like a particular color of green.)
Walking beneath the trees in the backyard of my youth was magical – the scale and texture and color of those years spent playing as a child are something I still gravitate towards – warm and organic, with vibrant colors and a thread of playfulness – give me all of that in an interior, please.
Home sweet home. My childhood home in Avon, Connecticut.
Walking beneath the trees of my youth was magical.
Also – though I’m firmly a Midwesterner now, gosh if the architecture and geography of the East Coast isn’t rooted in me still. I almost gasped aloud at how my olfactory memory kicked in when I walked through my old neighborhood. The salt box colonial houses with their rust and blue exteriors, restaurants with low ceilings and timber beams, antique shops with dour paintings of pilgrims –I loved all of it!
We stay the same, and we change.
How do we feel at home? What inspires us? Look backwards to the homes and memories of your early childhood – I bet you will find a vibe buried within a backlit memory.
Also, 10/10 recommend watching your kiddo do their thing on their 19th birthday – lucky mama indeed.