- Fabienne Fredrickson
When I came across this quote that was accompanied with a random selection of vintage collectibles on Instagram, I couldn't help but stop and reflect on this. This is a quote that I feel comfortable latching on to. Perhaps it is my Mantra.
Sometimes when I get serious about who I am, I truly believe that I am an old soul. When I was a little girl, of course I was busy doing little-girl-things. But I can clearly remember how I loved, loved, loved old things. Back then, I loved the old home my Busia (Polish for Grandmother) lived in following her move to Detroit from southwestern Pennsylvania. She lived not far from my family home, but it was a home from an earlier decade than mine which was circa 1941. It was a huge house with lots of nooks and crannies. It even had some scariness going on in the basement. It had a big front porch with lots of steps that I spent lots of time on with cousins.
Even back to those early years, I knew my family home was not my style. It was a great home for sure. It, too, had a big front porch that I spent lots of time on. But it was a basic 1940's bungalow. It wasn't a big old home full of old things....and even some scary areas.
So when it came time to find a house we came close to buying a newer home which was ok because at that time it wasn't just my choice. But as fate would have it, and I never thought about this until this moment, we were led to a more established neighborhood. To a beautiful 1925 Craftsman. The "for sale" sign in front was in a way a huge billboard announcing the availability of this beautiful home that was set between four huge silver maples and sat there in all its beauty and coziness and welcoming invite. So when I walked up the porch steps and looked into this home and seeing all the oak archways and floors............it was pure love for me. But then something kind of magical happened when we went up to what was used as the master bedroom. I took a peek in the closet and to my surprise, I saw a smaller door on the back wall. I was blown away by the deja vu that came over me. It was a reoccurring vision (a dream?) that I had often through my life. And it was at that moment that I knew that this house would be mine. That was in July 1977 and here I am, in 2016, and this beloved house is still my love.
I join the rest of those that are drawn to older homes, living with the comforts of vintage"ness" all around them. "Vintage" isn't for everyone, but it is for me. It is a "happy" for me. This is the home that I have spent my entire adult life, where I raised my two daughters, where holidays were spent with my parents and other family and friends. And it is now a place where I welcome my son-In-laws and my grandchildren. All the pets that have blessed us. So many memories....
So, hanging my hat in this special place I call my home is "my little part of heaven".