One thing that I'm grateful that I absorbed from my parents is my notion of the proper quality of domestic life. Every time I come back to my parents house I am reminded of just how pleasant, comfortable, and tasteful a home they always made for us. Even though I grew up there, I never quite appreciated how nice the home I grew up in was. But when I come back after not being around for a long time, I always marvel at how beautiful the decor is and how wonderfully clean it all is. And it still manages to avoid that uncomfortable, sterile feel that homes with elegant decor and extreme cleanliness sometimes have, instead keeping it inviting and totally liveable. That's all my mom's doing; she designed most of it herself. Also, cooking is their special hobby, so they taught me how great it was to eat well. Both my parents are excellent cooks, my mom in particular. Just looking around the place shows how big a part good cookery is of their lives. They have bunches of herbs hanging in the garage, drying after being picked straight from the garden in the backyard. There's a stack of cedar planks bundled in the pantry for grilling fish. Gorgeous copper pots hang from a beautiful rack above the stove.
I trace this as the source of my special love for the things that make a home beautiful and comfortable; tablecloths, nice furniture, curtains, china, baskets, all sorts of things of that nature. My desire to learn how to cook well comes from this as well. I don't think I ever realized how lucky I was. It has deeply influenced my own preferences, and I hope to one day be able to keep my own home with the same comfort and taste as my mom and dad do.
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