EFML:Home,sweet home!

I'm incredibly bored.I've read all that I can read and watched as much as my eyes can take.Of course,there's a lot of productive stuff I could do,but for some reason my brain refuses to get into that domain.So,I figure I'm going to be posting random stuff here for the next few days:D

I suck at history,but in my own life,the dates somehow register in my head.I remember the dates of the most innocuous of events.In accordance with that,25th of December marks 16 years since we moved in to this house.I was a naive,silly 7-year old when we moved in.Look at me now.I'm 23 and at times I think I'm just as silly and naive now.Sigh!

Let's start from the beginning.My Dad happens to be a man who wears many hats.So,the entire floor plan and elevation were drawn out by him.(with the occasional suggestion from an architect, I believe).I was about 5 years,but even then,I sensed that this was some sort of important event and I had to be a part of it.I would by no means let my age undermine my authority:D  (Back then I was a sucker for all the adult stuff.I wanted to be treated like one.I'd do whatever it took for that.My clever parents figured this was a good way to get me to do all the grunt work for them.They'd pretend to take all my opinions seriously and give me a part of their work as a sign of their trust.Fool that I was,I totally fell for it:P. I'd spend hours cutting gauze and rolling them into bandages for my Mom and days filling out IT returns and whatever else my Dad asked me to do.And I'd be so happy I never once cribbed about the work.Silly me,huh?)

Getting back to the point,I pestered my Dad with questions:Why is this room here? Why does it look so tiny? Where's my room? Why this order? I'd like a different order.Why does the whole plan look like tiny matchboxes?Are we going to live in a shoe box like in the story? I badgered the hell out of him,poor guy:D. I made it clear that my decisions were to be considered too.For quite some time,he couldn't figure out how to placate me.

Finally,he had the brilliant idea of getting me paint swatches and pretending that I could choose the color scheme of the house.Ah,I was in color heaven.He might have intended it as a joke,but I took it very seriously.I pored over the swatches day after day and finally settled on a shade of azure blue for the interiors.I told him and he solemnly agreed.When they got the paints,I wanted to see if they'd got the right shade of blue.

I was shocked to see no blue.It was an annoying pink for the interior and a shade of peach for the exterior.My fury knew no bounds.I'd been deceived.I raged on and on until my Dad gave in.And that's how the whole of my house is painted pink save for my room,which is blue:D(Actually,three rooms are,coz they had a bucket of blue paint or something!)

 I remember those initial days when my house was under construction.My grandfather happened to be the civil engineer and so I was free to visit whenever I fancied.I watched in awe,as a building emerged out of nothing.It was surreal--there was a Disney book where a kid watches the construction of a dinosaur park over her summer vacation.It was exactly like that.I'd imagine what would be the next thing that would be built when I came to visit.One day,I came to find --lo and behold--a staircase.Sadly enough,it didn't have banisters yet and for all my verbal valor,I didn't have the guts to climb it.

I used to be very enthusiastic on these visits.My grandfather who liked this,proposed a ride(or whatever) to the just-starting-to-exist first floor in one of those saddle-like contraptions that the workers use to get there.Thank you very much,but I'd rather jump off the terrace.I made it very clear that my visit to the first floor could wait till the much saner,less exciting stairs were ready.

When it was time to paint,I cherished this wonderful dream that I'd be allowed to paint something in Tom Sawyer fashion.Alas,my Dad put his foot down on my glorious visions.He wanted his house painted by a professional painter and not a 6 year old maniac.Makes sense:D

And so I watched month after month,till a year later it was all done.It stood tall.Although all I did was select the color for one room,I somehow felt a sense of pride when I looked at it.My house.I moved in,with all the excitement that's typical of a 7 year old.Soon,it turned into a home.When I think of home,a hearth is one of the first things I associate with it.Warmth.Coziness.Love.

25th December 2000.16 years to the day.

Happy Birthday,Home.

No matter where I am,it's this place that I'll call my home.Always and forever.