21 Days...building a home

And so it was in 1999 when I left the hubby and the son in the Big City for twenty one days. The hubby had gallantly furnished my purse for the journey and the opus ahead. I traveled to my grandparents’ hometown to the property by the beach where a giant tamarind tree held forth.

Beneath the tree and for three weeks, I planned, structured and renovated the weather-beaten house where my grandfather used to while his weary days. When he was alive, the house was his sanctuary away from the madding crowd of his public life.

I had huge dreams for the house. I hoped to bring back the Spirit of my grandfather’s sanctuary so that, like it did to him, it would shelter my Spirit and my hubby’s for years to come. Away from the concrete jungle, our Spirits would swell to fruition so that we would become the selves we nearly lost in the fast and furious metropolis. And so it was that I painted the house orange and green, after the Mediterranean colors of life.

After those grueling twenty one days, I went back to our home in the Big City, spent and exhausted. But secretly deep inside, I was greatly eager. For I knew our lives would never be the same again.

We had started to build our own PeacePond.