Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Is your home like everyone elses?

Nablopomo:
When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes?

I grew up in a white house on a hill. We had a huge front porch that went all across the front of the house. I had my own room. I had no idea we were different than other people until I was about twelve or thirteen and started having friends over and going to their houses. My friends were daughters of a doctor, a lawyer, and a few businessmen. I lived with my Mom and Grandparents. My Mom was a waitress at that time, my granddad a barber and grandma was a beautician (hairdresser as she called herself). They were good Christian hardworking people.

Anyway, I noticed very quickly that my friends all had nicer homes and lots more stuff than I had. All of a sudden, I made a new friend and her Mom decided she could not come see me after she saw where we lived. I did not understand until my Mom talked to me about it. I understood, but really didn't. How could people be so mean and shallow? My Mom taught me the word Shallow that day and what it meant. Anyway, the older I got, maybe around 14, friends started to change and I discovered "class" and "cliques". Both are so stupid.

I started being more drawn to people in my social class, what I then considered us to be the in-betweeners. Not rich yet not dirt poor either.

I married my high school sweetheart when I was 17. He had a good job at 3M Company and is retiring with them next year. We were upper middle class for a while. So were most of our friends. But our families were both still the same old folks in their same old houses. I guess it all changes as we grow and change. We lived in a nice brick home and I raised my sons there.

After we divorced 25 years into our marriage, I left and went to my brother's house in CA. So I had no home for a year. After I worked awhile and got established, I moved into my own small apt. (very small). Things then changed because I changed. I was on my own for the first time in my life, and low and behold, I discovered I was happy. I thought I was happy anyway, but I had not been for a long long time.

Then I met my hubby now, moved with his job 5 times, and always had a nice apt until now. After my transplant and him becoming ill, we struggle, as many do today. I now live in a small government apartment in a very small town. Do I feel lower class or feel that my home is different from others? Here is the kicker: I No Longer Care! and I'm still happy!

So judge people for who they are and not what kind of house they live in. It doesn't matter if it's different.

Nablopomo