Free Almost Mine by Lea Darragh

connected seamlessly to the dining room and seating-for-ten dining table by way of roughly shorn, exposed beams that lowered the three meter ceilings throughout. The buttermilk walls that flowed through the entire ground floor made for a cosy, intimate frame for the hub of our home. It was decked out with top of the range, designer appliances; the oven resembling an old wood-fire took me back to the days that I’d cooked with my Ma Lily Alexander all of those many years ago, back when I was a child and didn’t have a mother to play that role. The cabinetry was timber, painted with an antique white colour, while the bench tops were the most beautiful ecru granite that I had ever seen. Plate racks lined the left wall and housed my eclectic collection of new and antique plates that I had picked up at weekend markets.
    I didn’t know that I loved the simplicity of old world charm until Nick had shown me the way. We’d driven the region on the weekends, trawling for knick knacks and furniture that would fit with the theme of our home. And from my first galoshed step onto muddy ground as I explored the modest stalls, I found that I was deeply moved and swept to a simple, easy place that helped me to escape the indistinct world that I was in, and I wanted my personal space to reflect that. I wanted my home with Nick to be like nothing else that existed in my life right now. Being drawn back to a humbler time, a time when I was happy as a bird, before my mother had left and everything inside me had died. The hand painted plates recollected memories from the past that I was very fond of. I can’t tell how grateful I was to be reminded of such lovely times.
    From the grand entrance of the homestead, the kitchen was presented to the left. Down a short passageway and to the right was a living area with floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were in danger of be filled within the next few months of unrestrained book buying. I didn’t read much these days, but I couldn’t resist a pretty cover. And framed by the book shelves was an open fireplace, handy for those long romantic nights. A sixty-five inch LCD television hung amongst the books, its size in no way dwarfing the oversized room. Dark grey cushioned sofas lined the room, and a chunky block coffee table, fitted with drawers for storage, sat as the centrepiece. This room was designed for family entertainment: a cosy place to have a movie night with the children, or to house giggling teenage daughters during sleep-overs, or to entertain our sons and their mates with video games and weekend football. A day bed sat at the far end of the room beneath a large bay window, the perfect place for me to unwind — if I had time — with one of my many books.
    The room beside the living area was a study/home office that was equipped with a large timber desk and ergonomic office chair. Another large French window brightened the room to provide a bright, open space for work and learning. Empty book shelves lined the wall behind the desk, leaving room for a growing family to, well, grow.
    The remainder of the lower floor was made up of the laundry, a guest bedroom and bathroom and a narrow staircase that led down to our wine cellar which housed our personal collection from Mathieson’s Vineyard. The bottles were stowed there for romantic dinners for two, for guests that we hoped to invite when the home was up and running completely, and for celebrating the splendours that were yet to come.
    Ahead of the entrance to the living room was the wide, arced stair case that kept the grey oak flowing through the house. It led to a landing large enough to be a living room in its own right. A wide hall at the top of the stairs ran in both directions and led to five bedrooms, including the cornflower blue master suite that was positioned in the centre of the house, so that, as parents, Nick and I were equally available to all of our children.
    Only one of the other bedrooms, the one to the right of our