One of the many reasons why I enjoy coming home so much is because of the house. From the outside, it looks like the Flinstone House.
Mom has a knack for designing and the whole house feels like a museum of some sort. It’s a blend of Shabby Chic, Southern Living, Anthropologie, Cottage Living and old country. It’s been a work in progress for her and she’s filled it up with pieces from international travels, flea markets, old pieces from our apartment back in Albania, Target, junk yards, and hand-made pieces constructed from her imagination. When I was younger I wasn’t exposed to this side of her, probably because she spent the better part of her energy focusing to raise me the best that she could and keep me focused on schoolwork and my future. By the time we got this house, I was heading off to university. Little by little she began to unfold her creative ideas and imagination, working on the place a little at a time. I’m amazed at how she’s transformed the house by hand-painting the doors and cabinets white, changing the tiles and making curtains out of my old dresses. I truly admire her talents and am too much in awe to wonder why I wasn’t equipped with the same gift. Unsurprisingly, I love coming home just for the decor alone, because it makes me feel like I’m in this little fairy-tale cottage where everything is beautiful and magical. Perhaps that’s what going home should feel like.