Querencia, a place where one feels at home; a safe place; a sanctuary; and my word of the year, has me considering all the ways I’ve either felt safe, loved, secure, or have sought a safe haven from the stresses of this world. This month seems appropriate to write a letter to my first home, the place of my beginnings – where I first experienced love and family.

Dear “Two-Acres,”

Your name alone brings to mind so many fun, adventurous, loving memories. I know my momma, daddy, or siblings may feel differently, but I can’t think of one unhappy memory inside or outside of our house, well, other than being sick with the measles and mumps….okay, so at least two.

Two-Acres, you were such a good home for me. I loved our small house and our surrounding property. There are so many happy memories playing in my mind. I especially loved our small fenced-in yard. I always thought that was kind of neat, a fenced yard within a fenced property. I always felt safe and cozy. I’m sure it was my daddy’s way of keeping us protected until we were ready to live in the outside world.

My first experiences of what it was like being in a loving home were within your fence lines. As a child, there were so many nuances I missed in the adult-world of other concerns and possible unhappiness between my parents. But the happiness and love that I experienced in you, my first home, set me up well for all my future homes. Loving you, Two-Acres, placed within me a hope, even after my family moved away before the year I was to be in the fifth grade, that I would find the same love I had for you in another home again one day.

Firstly, thank you for the all fun. All the adventures my siblings and I had are fond memories today. Playing pretend was the best, but even the chores done indoors were an adventure. Learning to make a bed was the hardest work of all. I loved how my momma could flick a sheet over the bed in one smooth move and get it to lay flat with no wrinkles at all. I spent minutes (what felt like hours and hours) trying and re-trying to get it right. Once done, I was rewarded with joining my siblings with a hike around our huge pond, being ever-careful not to fall in.

Within your fences, or loving arms (as I’ve always thought of those lines of barbed wires keeping us contained and safe), I first learned how to get along with others. Being part of eight kids was a huge undertaking for my parents. Keeping us fed, clothed, and on a schedule took effort. That meant us olders had our part in helping. Plus, things changed as, one-by-one, we set off for school.

One of my very first memories was going with Daddy to milk our one cow in the farthest front corner of your “arms.” I was probably three or four years old. I recall it being a cold winter morning. Although I enjoyed being with Daddy and helping him, I knew right at that moment that I didn’t want to have a cow when I grew up to go out in the frigid cold and milk. I wasn’t fond of winter then, something that has remained with me through today. Although I’m happy to know I experienced those things on your loving grounds, as well as hours seated with my daddy on his tractor plowing the back acre, I was sure of what I did and didn’t want to do, when I grew up, regarding farm life.

Another one of those things which I didn’t want to do was raise chickens when I grew up, not just for the fact of having to watch out where I stepped but for their extra care in the winter. Remember that time when Daddy had to bring a bunch of baby chicks inside the house before a really bad freeze? He put heat lamps on to keep them warm. There were so many of them. And they were so cute! But I was like, oh no, too much care and too much peeping, lol.

Climbing trees with my siblings was my favorite though. Do you remember that? It was the most fun. We would build fort after fort in those three huge trees. And I was so proud of myself, as I wasn’t the most agile or strongest child, yet I managed to scale a tree with my more flexible and sure-footed siblings. And not a single one of us broke an arm or a leg. Imagine that! Sadly, I started staying indoors once I started school to do homework, read, and take care of chores. Climbing trees and building forts became a thing of the past.

We learned valuable lessons within your “arms.” Remember the time Daddy told us not to play in leftover washtub water? I’m not sure why it hadn’t gotten emptied the day before after Momma was done scrubbing and hanging laundry. But, being kids with wonderful imaginations, we decided to use those tubs of water to wash our pretend dishes and clothes as we played in the great outdoors. Imagine our surprise when Daddy saw us doing what he asked us not to. Our playtime ended fast. He marched himself over and said, “Let me show you why I didn’t want y’all playing in the water.” He slowly poured the water out, and there at the bottom were a handful of scorpions. How scary! Thankfully, none of us were bitten. It was interesting to learn that scorpions could climb vertically up the poles of the laundry shed, skim across its rafters, and then drop down into the tubs. I still find it fascinating to this day.

There were the times I got to ride on the tractor with Daddy and help him water the field with the irrigation canal that separated each acre. Oh, and how about the times he and Momma would choose one of our chickens, wring its neck, then fix it for supper after watching it wobble around on the ground until it finally stopped moving. I know, a little horrifying, right? But it was farm life, and I really didn’t think too much of it at the time.

Then, how about the time Momma got tired of helping me with my long hair. It was sometime before my second grade school pictures were taken. She asked Daddy to put me up on the hood of his truck and not let me down. She went to the house and came back with a pair of scissors. When she was done, I went from having hair down past my waist to just below my ears. Imagine going to school for weeks with long hair then showing up on Picture Day with short hair. That was traumatic! And a lesson, too. And it’s been a love-hate relationship with my hair since then, lol.

I especially loved the time us olders would go with Daddy to get firewood. It was cold, but it was fun, too. Maybe because we went outside your fence line. I love adventure, so it was more than nice to go into the neighboring cow pasture lined with Mesquite trees in search of suitable chunks of wood for Momma’s wood stove. It was so cold our fingers were numb and we could see our breath. I was always on the lookout for the best possible piece of firewood. And I was so happy when Daddy would agree to haul it back home.

Momma was the best cook and baker. I was always amazed at how she could use a wood stove to produce such delicious meals. In our very early years, before I started school, I used to be her sous chef, constantly washing the measuring cups and spoons she’d need next. If I wasn’t fast enough, I’d sure hear about it, lol. The thing I was most impressed with is she could bake bread in an oven made in the ground and turn goat’s milk into cheese. We never appreciated her industriousness back then.

Remember that time I set fire to the kitchen curtain by accident? Momma kept sending me to look outside to see who was coming down the levy. When I looked outside to check for the umpteenth time, I leaned too close to the kerosene stove and, well, the rest was history…and flames. I’m so sorry about that. And I’m so glad Daddy was home to save the wall above the window from being burned too badly – and me from Momma. Boy, she was so upset. But Daddy was so patient about it all. The only thing really lost was the one curtain that went up in flames. Frightening. But I did learn a valuable lesson about fire that day.

I remember Momma teaching me about time…in a way. She asked me to let Daddy know it was time to come in and eat and to tell him the short hand is on the twelve and the long hand is on the six. Boy, that really tested my brain and my ability to remember instructions. Daddy was working in his rose garden. Do you know he planted a huge rose garden in the last place we lived together? The place was much smaller than you, Two-Acres, but the garden was much bigger than any he’d planted before. He had such a green thumb and was a wonderful landscaper. But those pesticides were his doom.

Today, I still think of you often. Those times with you were so long ago, Two-Acres, but I have held them close to my heart through all these years of growing from a child into an adult and in all the places I have since lived. My memories with you are part of the foundation of who I am today. I love adventure. I feel safe. I am curious. I learned to not be afraid of spiders or scorpions. I was able to decide that I didn’t want farm animals when I grew up (and I still don’t)…and I don’t like the cold. I never picked up the cooking gene from my momma but several of my sisters did. I figured out that I couldn’t pee like my brothers…and it wasn’t fair (still isn’t, lol). During illnesses, I learned that I don’t like jewelry-making kits; and although I love buying jewelry, I still don’t like making it today. I love hardwood floors. I like the idea of a wood stove. I’m very respectful of the dangers of fire, although I enjoy sitting by a crackling fire during cold winter days. And Mesquite trees make great Christmas trees!

There are more great memories of you, Two-Acres, which I’m sure will come out in further writings. I’m so glad to have so many of them, particularly with some of my siblings I’m so blessed to still be close with today.

So, thank you, Two-Acres, for being my first loving, fun, adventurous, and life lesson home. You are my querencia for as long as my heart and my mind keep on keeping on.

Love & hugs, Virginia Alice (Virg) Crawford

Have you ever written a letter to your first home? If not, I highly encourage it. It’s amazing how illuminating and enlightening it can be, as all the memories come tumbling in. I’ve always striven to be optimistic and positive, so you may not have as many happy memories as I do. But no one really has to see your letter – it can be between yourself and your first homeplace. So, try it. It may be just what you’ve been needing to do – to learn where your “querencia” or safe place is or will be today.