      There is a tourist attraction in San Jose, California, called the Winchester Mystery House. Its origins begin in 1884 when Sarah Winchester, heiress to millions of dollars from the Winchester rifle fortune, left Connecticut after the deaths of her husband and infant child, and bought real estate in California.
           Her soul was troubled by the thought of all those who had lost their lives due to the Winchester rifle, and the grief and torment consumed her. Her tortured soul began an endless quest for peace and she felt the road to that was in continuously building on and remodeling her house, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Construction never stopped. As one project neared completion, another would be started so that there was no interruption. There were times when an addition was completed, only to be torn down and rebuilt. It was construction for the sake of construction. The projects didn't need to necessarily serve a purpose, they just needed to be built. There were stairways that led nowhere, doors that opened onto walls, chimneys that didn't reach the roof, a window built into the floor, and a grand ballroom that was never used. There are twisting hallways and secret passageways connecting 160 rooms in a sprawling labyrinth that saw continuous construction for 38 years at a cost of $5.5 million dollars. The quirks, characteristics and contents of the house tell a story, the story of its owner, Sarah Winchester.
           When you put your house on the real estate market you are often encouraged to remove pictures, mementos and other items of a personal nature so that potential buyers can see themselves living in the house, not you. So you strip the walls, mantels and shelves of what makes the house uniquely you, to allow someone else to envision how they could make that same space uniquely theirs.
           A house, in its most basic elements, is wood, concrete, drywall, pipes, electricity, glass, fixtures, flooring, and the like. That's a house. But a home is more -- so much more. A home is made up of the things that make the space so personal and so special. It helps tell our story.
           Walk into my kitchen and you will see what you'd expect: appliances, cupboards, countertops and a dining room table. But I see a fridge that served double duty as an art gallery, counters where hundreds of meals have been prepared for holidays, holy days, and the every day, and a table that has been the gathering point for meals, evenings of board games, hours of homework and countless cups of coffee.
           In the living room you will find furniture, family pictures, books and wall art, but I see the spot where we spent precious hours rocking our babies to sleep, the faces of our families as we got ready to open Christmas gifts, and the place on the couch where I was sitting the first time I heard my daughters read.
           Whether we live in a mystery house or mansion, tower or trailer, our houses tell the story of our likes, dislikes and personal preferences in the materials, colors and styles we choose to surround ourselves with. But our homes tell the stories of our lives and the experiences that make the space the place where we belong. Take a look around the space you call home. Maybe it's smaller than you wish. Maybe it's bigger than you need. Maybe you feel it's too cluttered or too empty, too contemporary or too dated. Whether you are tripping over toys or are an empty nester, alone or surrounded by people, in a new place or somewhere you have lived for years, take a look around and see what no one else will see. Think of all the ways you have written your stories on the space. A house is a place to live; a home is where the pages of life get written. That's my outlook.
