Home — A Personal Story

In the light of this beautiful full moon there hangs a quilt, illuminated, in my mother’s living room. She made this quilt for me with nine squares, each depicting one of the homes we’ve lived in together.

Wherever we lived, the first room she fixed up was mine, and without an exception each one was extraordinary, especially considering the neighborhoods we lived in. We moved as we needed to and all the while my mother saved what she could for her dream house. It didn’t much matter that there were flights of stairs to climb with heavy laundry bags or crowded parking lots that never got plowed, because Mom always reminded me that there would be a place on the Vineyard that would one day be our own. There would be a place for my great grandmother’s crystal, still packed away in storage, and a place for me to lie quietly and safely in a hammock and read. Most of all, she said it would be a place that we would not have to move out of and where there would be flower gardens and trees.

Mom finally moved to the island in 1987, just two days after I entered Boston University. Five years later, I received my B.A. on a scholarship and finally moved into my mother’s dream house. I call it a dream house because for so many years as I was growing up, it was the image of that house in the center of the quilt that kept us all going. My mother created for us a great sense of hope, an acknowlegement of the necessity of hard work, and of both the patience and persistence it takes to make the product of such work materialize.

Life can be hard – we all know that, and a year ago my life hit an overwhelming low. I was unexpectedly left with the responsibility of a newborn and a sad and confused two-year-old. With two children needing childcare and numerous bills to pay, I could not see the possibility of living independently and making a home for my children. I was grieving and full of despair.

Then one bleak morning last winter, I read in the newspaper about Island Cohousing’s dream of designing a neighborhood where the focus would be on the creation of community. I read about the opportunity for eligible moderate income families to apply for a lottery, which for lucky families might result in a home. It was a long shot for sure, but I took a chance and applied to take part in the process of realizing the community dreams.

I am standing here today, still in awe of the fact that my name was pulled from a hat, that my year old son Gabriel and my three year old daughter Isabella have a real opportunity to grow up in their own home. They will not have to wait until they are out of college to know what it is like to swing in their own hammock or kick off their snowy boots in their own hallway. They can run safely across a path to play with Eli or visit Shirley. They can run to Martha’s house to borrow an egg or a cup of sugar or run down to see what John is making. They can grow up knowing their neighbors and being active participants and decision makers in their community.

And I can begin to dream again too. Thank you.

Thank you