Hospitality is feeling at home

A childhood friend's grandmother recently passed away. As a child I claimed her as my own, and called her "Nana." She lived across the street from me on Magnolia Drive in a sleepy little town in Georgia. When I think of the times I spent at her house, she was hospitality personified. Before she moved across the street from me, she lived one street over, and her yard backed up to the yard of my BFF. She had trees dripping with amazing thick vines, and she never cared if we climbed all over them. Then, once she moved, I practically lived at her house. She always fed and watered us, the children who hung around like stray cats or invasive weeds, and never batted an eye. In fact, she went above and beyond being neighborly and made time spent at her house always feel special. For instance, I remember she had cordial glasses. Delicate little things that seemed so grown-up and elegant, and she would let us make mock-tails out of Sprite and assorted fruit juices. Maybe that's why I collect cordial glasses to this day. I also remember that no room in her house was off limits. Her granddaughter and I would mess up her guest room bed, lounging while we watched Press Your Luck or Solid Gold. And believe me, the fun didn't stop with watching Solid Gold - I remember dancing all over her house, and she would smile and laugh along with us. 

As time went on, we moved to a different neighborhood, and my social circle changed. I didn't hang out with Nana's granddaughter very much, and Nana and I drifted apart. But her lesson of hospitality always remained with me. My husband and I stopped by to see her a few years ago. Walking into her home, I felt that not much had changed. Sure, some furnishings were different. Things had been moved around. But it still felt like home - it was still the same place I had so treasured when I was young. 

I don't live in a traditional neighborhood. And so far, my only experience with kids in my immediate vicinity were the ones who stole our shot glasses out of the backyard Beer Shack. But I remain optimistic. As my daughter gets older, and starts bringing friends over to play, I hope that they feel like our house is their home as well. A welcoming home is not about the decor, or the stuff that's in it. It's about the door's-always-open mindset of the people who live there. Nana was a hospitality master. Her home was nothing fancy. Her possessions weren't grand or fine. But her home encouraged me, comforted me, and made me feel like I belonged. I will be forever grateful for the role Nana played in creating the golden memories of my youth. I'm excited to pass her hospitality lessons along.

If you had a hospitality ninja in your life, I would love to hear about them. Share your stories on Facebook with the hashtag #goodliving!