A Place to Call Home

The architectural design of our co-op is quaint. It's rather Victorian looking - relatively narrow units with steep roofs, wooden balconies and slanted bedroom walls. We have wide open spaces around us, large common areas between the units and compared with densely constructed private market housing, we are luxuriating in greenspace.

I have an attachment to this co-op, perhaps because I was so intimately involved with its maintenance. I was hoping it would age gracefully, but it looks like every unit is now struggling to hold itself up. And then my thinking becomes more expansive in knowing how many families have called this co-op Home.

Members leave their member status at their front door and become people again. Babies are born, people marry, people die and people move on. There's a value to life in the co-op that is to be treasured because for everyone of us, we are living and breathing our lives together. We form bonds whether we like it or not. It's not that one must relish a 'love/hate' relationship, but deep down inside, people feel comfortable here. We come together in times of crisis. We look after each other. People phone to ask how a family member is. We hang out together - even in pyjamas. We can stare at the night stars and moon together. There is no pretentiousness here; we are all on the same footing. Instead there is a common bonding in a philosophy called 'co-operative living' and this is Home.