Building Nests

 It’s not always about meeting the right person; rather, it’s when each individual possesses the right qualities that we truly connect and create a harmonious home—a place that grows warmer with each passing day.

 

While researching additional home decor ideas, I perused the book ‘Keeping Home’ by Australian creative Emma Blomfield. Blomfield has revolutionized interior design through her online personal styling and educational programs. Suddenly, I stumbled upon a passage that resonated deeply with my own thoughts. The essence was this:

Do you recognize these familiar excuses?

• But this is just a rental property.
• But I’m living in my parents’ house.
• But I’m too busy.
• But I don’t plan to stay here long.
• But decorating the way I want would be costly.
• But I’m tired of my aesthetic taste.
• But I’m waiting for the right person; then we’ll build our dream home together.

These seemingly reasonable justifications often conceal an underlying, persistent cause that warrants introspection: procrastination. It’s time to shed the ‘someday’ mentality and embrace the present.

Her perspective on homes aligns with my own as a couple: a home isn’t merely a repository for belongings or a mere shelter—it’s a place where each of us deserves to find joy and fulfillment, where we can infuse our unique personalities. Whether through emotions, childhood memories, or personal experiences, we can wholly imprint our individuality onto our homes.

The beautifully curated houses we see online or in magazines often showcase meticulously arranged corners, sharp lines, and occasionally feel distant from our current reality. Therefore, our homes should evoke familiarity, a sense of belonging, and the freedom to express our distinctiveness. After all, home is where we create our own world. 

 

 

The Old Apartment: When we first moved into our modest apartment, it was nothing more than bare walls. Rain seeped through the window gaps, drumming a rhythmic beat on the crooked tin roof. Droplets trickled from the ceiling, creating a soft pitter-patter. The scent of aged bricks permeated the air. Yet, despite these humble beginnings, we found immense joy in transforming our private world.

Our home defied conventional design templates—it was a delightful chaos. We decorated on a whim, with little regard for established interior styles or spatial arrangements. The carpentry skills of my partner were still unrefined, resulting in furniture that bore a natural, somewhat rustic charm. Our cupboards, shelves, tables, and chairs carried imperfections, yet they exuded authenticity.

Though resources were limited, we harnessed the power of our hands and minds to infuse warmth into our dwelling. Our home became an embodiment of our personalities. We cooked our first meals in the occasionally damp kitchen, waiting for the sun to dry the floors. On the balcony, we listened to music, sang late into the night with friends, and sometimes lay on thin mattresses, contemplating the future.

Back then, we even hosted foreign tourists visiting Vietnam, sharing meals and stories. Despite the occasional disorder, they embraced the vibrancy of our lives. After all, happiness thrives in the midst of imperfection.

 

After 5 years, I told my husband that I wanted to move because our current living space, which also doubled as our workplace, was a bit cramped. It was always bustling with people coming and going, leaving me with little breathing room and no space to write. His response was simple: “Wife is number one, so whatever you want, I’ll follow.” And just like that, I embarked on a frantic search for a new home.

My stubborn nature, reminiscent of a spoiled princess, persisted despite the passing years. Countless times in his life, he’s been swept along by my “bold decisions” (yes, he calls them that because sometimes I don’t foresee the consequences, but I charge ahead with unwavering faith and enthusiasm). Our new home is a three-story house tucked away in a narrow alley, with a persimmon tree bearing fruit in the front yard—much like the one at my parents’ house. It seems to be the sole and most valuable asset of our rented abode. Everything else had to be built from scratch, with our own hands.

Together, we meticulously decorated every nook and cranny, extending our boundless joy. Each corner of our home was nurtured with the love we share. The rooftop, adorned with a “forest” of plants he planted himself, occasionally transforms into a romantic space for barbecues or heartfelt gatherings with friends. We thrive on novelty, and so our married life feels perpetually fresh, like a new beginning.

Moving to a new place without carrying anything from our old home—except for the essentials like clothes, shoes, musical instruments, cameras, and laptops—brings him the joy of repainting walls and assembling new shelves. For me, selecting each piece of furniture to fit our living space becomes an endless source of inspiration.

If you stepped into our home at that time, and even in our current home, you would still find many unfinished corners. However, that very lack of completeness is a sign of life in constant motion. We relish the moments when our house is in disarray because there’s always a corner waiting to be transformed. We engage in playful antics, like setting up a camp stove in the living room to cook, preparing meals in the garden, climbing onto the rooftop to watch fireworks, or creating a cozy little library nook for reading.

Decorating our home seems like an ongoing journey of self-discovery. Just by comparing images of our first home with our current one, the differences are stark. These changes stem from the inner growth of both of us. I believe that even if we hadn’t met each other or lived together, each of us would still cherish the idea of creating a comfortable space we could call home. It’s not just about finding the right person; it’s about having complementary personalities that allow us to build a warmer nest together.

One early morning, while I was still half-asleep, I heard the sound of hammering and construction workers downstairs. The noise felt like a beautiful dream. I rubbed my eyes, woke up, and saw the persimmon tree’s leaves gently swaying in the breeze.

_Excerpt from an article in the December 2023 issue of Phụ Nữ magazine