Describing My Favorite Place

For her first writing prompt, Ebar asks us to describe our favorite place using all five senses. I was thinking of sharing something about my favorite place in the entire world just yesterday. As someone who doesn’t feel she belongs anywhere, the concept of a favorite place is hard to comprehend. However, right now, my favorite place in the entire world is where I am at this very moment: my room in the care home. Below, let me describe it using my five senses.

I can see the light being on. Though I cannot usually see the colored LEDs on my essential oil diffuser due to being blind, I know they are there and appreciate them. I can see through the windows. Well, not right now as it’s dark outside and the curtains are drawn, but during the day, I can.

I can listen to the sound of soothing music on my music pillow, or to my text-to-speech software on my computer or iPhone through my headphones. I can also sometimes hear the door behind which the laundry and trash cans are stored slam shut right below my room. I don’t like that sound, but the staff are looking into the technical people doing something about the door being made less loud. I can hear the sounds of other clients and staff elsewhere in the home. I may not always like those sounds either, but they are the sounds of my room. I was almost going to say they are the sounds of home, but calling my room “home” just feels like it’s a step too far as of yet.

I can feel the fabric of the chair I’m sitting on. I can feel the characteristic floor my feet touch. When I’m in my bed, I can feel the comfort of my weighted blanket and my stuffed animals.

I can smell the scent of whichever essential oil blend I choose to put into my diffuser when I want to. Lastly, I can taste the meal delivery service meals in my mouth. I can select from their menu and, though the meals aren’t great and there’s a particular lack of variety, some are quite delicious. I’m going to pretend we have lasagne for the sake of this post.

What’s your favorite place like?

Song Lyric Sunday: Kitchen

Hi everyone. It’s been forever since I took part in Song Lyric Sunday, but today, I wanted to. Today’s prompt is house/room/shower/kitchen/attic. This wasn’t as easy as it initially seemed. I mean, I know a ton of songs about “home”, but “home” isn’t necessarily the same as “house”.

Then, I was tempted to share that famous Venga Boys song. You know, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, I want you in my room? I was a little too old for this music at thirteen when the Venga Boys were popular, but still I liked them more than my younger sister did and this song was definitely a guilty pleasure.

I finally decided to check out one of my favorite country singers, Bobby Bare, on Spotify and see if he had any songs that fit the prompt. Then, I quite easily stumbled upon Singin’ in the Kitchen. I’d honestly never heard this song before and I don’t really like it now that I have, but I like Bobby Bare and am guessing this isn’t a song many others would come up with, so…

Song Title: Singin’ in the Kitchen
Singer: Bobby Bare
Songwriter: Shel Silverstein

Shall we do it? (Shall we do it?)
Okay this is, uh (no, I think we shouldn’t)
Is everybody ready now? (Yeah!) Okay!
Here we go singin’ in the kitchen, all together now, singin’ in the kitchen
Everybody singin’ in the kitchen, bangin’ on the pots and pans
Mommy and daddy singin’ in the kitchen, baby laughin’, singin’ in the kitchen
All the kids singin’ in the kitchen, bangin’ on the pots and pans
Supper’s done and the table’s clear, baby wants a bottle and I want a beer
Lord I sure am glad I’m here where there’s lots of love to share
And I clap hands and everybody sings, dishes cling and the banjo rings
There’s gravy on these guitar strings but I don’t really care
‘Cause here we are singin’ in the kitchen, all together now, singin’ in the kitchen
Everybody singin’ in the kitchen, bangin’ on the pots and pans
I’ll play the comb and you’ll play the spoons
I’ll sing the words and you’ll sing the tunes
We’ll wake up the old man in the moon ’cause we sing so loud (yeah)
I’ll hug ya all and you’ll hug mother, snuggle up close to one another
Just like bread on a piece of butter, Lord it makes me feel so proud
‘Cause here we are singin’ in the kitchen, all together now, singin’ in the kitchen
Everybody singin’ in the kitchen, bangin’ on the pots and pans
Now the fireplace embers are glowin’ red, everybody’s tired and it’s time for bed
Baby’s noddin’ his little sleepy head so let’s sing quiet now, shh!
What do we love? (Singin’ in the kitchen) can’t get enough (singin’ in the kitchen)
Whole lotta love (singin’ in the kitchen) bangin’ on the pots and pans
Mommy and daddy (singin’ in the kitchen) a little bitty baby (singin’ in the kitchen)
All the kids (singin’ in the kitchen) bangin’ on the pats and pans, shh!
Everybody singin’ in the kitchen, bangin’ on the pots and pans
Yeah, mommy and daddy singin’ in the kitchen, baby laughin’, (singin’ in the kitchen)
All the kids singin’ in the kitchen, bangin’ on the pots and pans

My Ideal Home

I’ve been thinking since yesterday about the prompt I mentioned I found in Day One: What would your ideal home look like? And since I have nothing else I want to write about right now, I thought I’d paint a word picture of my ideal home. Of course, this post is going to describe the physical look of the house. Like I said yesterday, home is where I can be myself and that cannot mostly be achieved with material things.

I’m going to design my ideal home as I want my living space to be. I’m assuming in this case that, if it will be a home where I live with my husband, he’ll get his own space. I am also not going to bother with practicalities such as having to clean a large space, since, well, this is just a dream.

First, my house would have a bottom floor and a top floor. It might have an attic too for storing random bits and stuff, but I haven’t decided on that one yet. In my husband’s and my real homes, both back in the tiny village and in Lobith, I could not/cannot reach the attic, after all.

The bottom floor would have a living room with two very comfy, large couches. In addition, there’d be a recliner. There’d be a living room table just about big enough for drinking tea. There’d of course be a TV.

The living room would be attached to the dining room, where there’d be a dining table. We’d have an open kitchen, so it’d be in the dining room really. That way, if my husband is cooking and I’m in the living room or diner, we can still talk.

The kitchen would of course have an oven, a microwave, a dishwasher and a stove. If I get my way (and yes, I do, as this is my blog!), it’ll be an induction stove.

Then on to the top floor. That floor would have three separate bedrooms for me: one bedroom which I’d share with my husband, one sensory room and a craft room. Oh, I’d also need an office, but that’s as simple as a desk and a chair so could be crammed in with one of the other rooms.

The sensory room would of course have a water bed with its own internal music system. It would also have an essential oil diffuser. Other than that, there’d be lots of soft toys, and my yoga mat and fitness ball.

The craft room would have enough room for a table to work on and a chair, as well as lots of storage shelves. It would have its own microwave, fridge and sink to clean my hands.

Lastly, there’d be a bathroom. That one would have a bathtub that could be filled enough with warm water to cover my entire body (my care facility’s bathtub can’t). There’d also be a separate shower for when I don’t feel like having a bath. There’d obviously be a washbasin to brush my teeth at. I don’t think I’d want a second toilet here. Now of course I forgot to put a first one at the bottom floor, but oh well, I’m not an actual architect, am I?

That’s it I think. What would you want to include in your ideal home?

Home Is Where…

Some say home is where my bed is. Then again, do they mean the care facility’s bed or my husband’s bed?

Others say home is where my toothbrush is. Then again, I take it with me wherever I go.

Dallas Moore would say home is where the highway is. My husband might’ve agreed when he was still a truck driver. Then again, neither his home in Lobith nor my care facility in Raalte is on a major highway.

I say home is where…
I can feel safe. I can feel comfortable. I can be myself.
That place, I’m not yet sure I’ve found.


This post was written for My Vivid Blog’s writing challenge: “Where”. I am also joining Writers’ Pantry #81. This post was inspired by today’s daily prompt in Day One, my diary app, which asks me to describe my ideal home. It was also inspired by this song.

Home Sweet Home

This week, Eugi’s weekly prompt is “Home sweet home”. I’ve never participated in this prompt before, but I thought I’d now.

Two weeks from now, I’ll be living in the care facility one year. It feels closer to home than any of the homes and facilities I’ve lived in before did. That feels weird. My parents’ house felt like home, but that’s just because I knew nothing else. My parents felt as safe as possible, but again that was because I knew nothing else.

Then I went into the training home. That was temporary, as you were supposed to live there for at most two years while training for independent living. That’s what I did eighteen months later. I cried my eyes out the first day, in front of my mother, who got angry with me.

It felt horrible to know that this was it forever. I mean, for at least the duration of my university studies, so four years, I’d live there. Then I’d live in a rented house on my own. It completely overwhelmed me.

As regular readers know, it didn’t last. Three months in, I landed in a mental crisis and was hospitalized. Though I stayed in the psych hospital for 9 1/2 years total and for over four years on one ward, it never felt like home. I knew it was temporary, after all.

And then I got kicked out. I lived with my husband in our rented house in the tiny village for 2 1/2 years. Even though I got by okay, it never felt good.

And now I’m here. I got that overwhelming feeling that this is it forever in the first weeks too, but this time, it was good.

I struggle to believe that this is not yet another temporary living arrangement or one in which I cannot cope. I act in and out a lot, probably to somehow “prove” that I’m not suited to this home. That I’m not suited to any home in the world. That there is no home sweet home for me.

Yet my staff so far say that I can stay here for the rest of my life. That, too, feels kind of overwhelming, but like I said, in a good way.

I also of course have my and my husband’s home in Lobith. That one still feels a bit odd to me. I never really lived in it, since we bought it two days after I moved into the care facility. In fact, I struggle to consider it my house too. When I write about it, I often write that it’s my husband’s house, then correct myself and add “and my”. I want to keep a connection to that house too, but it doesn’t feel like home.