Design Lessons From My Parents

where it all started and what it's all about

I’ve been rotting at my parents’ house near Boston for the last few days and it’s been bliss. Not only because we’re spending so much time with our families (my in-laws live down the road) knee-deep in Christmas cookies and sufganyiot, but because this house feels like an old friend or the favourite sibling who’s seen all of our petty crimes and doesn’t tell.

It’s the house where my husband had his first kiss (with me, aged 15), where I came running back to after my first marriage ended in trans-oceanic divorce, where our nephews were born, where I learned to love to cook, where all of my babies have peed on the floor at some point, where my parents recently celebrated their 48th anniversary.