As 2025 came to a close, I was thinking about last year’s New Year’s column, when I wrote about a simple plaque that hung in my grandparents’ home and how its message became part of my understanding of what “home” truly means. I described how, as a child, I’d walk through their door and instantly feel warmth, laughter and love. That plaque – etched with the words Wherever you wander, wherever you roam, be happy, be healthy, and glad to come home – was more than décor. It was a compass for how I viewed home itself: not just a place, but a feeling.
What I didn’t share back then was that the plaque wasn’t actually a plaque at all. It was a cast iron trivet. I thought it had been lost forever, thrown out when my Nana passed away. For years, I looked for it online, hoping to find another just like it, but nothing felt quite right. I had resigned myself to the idea that it lived only in memory.
Then, earlier this year, life brought an unexpected turn. After losing my mother a little over a year ago, I finally reached the point where I could begin the difficult process of sorting through her belongings. Anyone who has gone through this knows how tender that journey can be; every box holds a story and, sometimes, a few tears. Among her things were boxes from when my grandmother died, still taped and unopened. As I began unpacking them, it struck me that I wasn’t just walking through my mother’s life, but my grandmother’s as well.
And there it was. Nestled between yellowed linens and old black and white photos from the 1940s when my grandparents were still young and my mother a baby – the trivet. The same one I thought was gone forever.
I held it in my hands and was instantly transported back through time: to Nana’s kitchen filled with music, to my parents’ homes where love and chaos mingled and to the two homes my husband and I have shared together throughout our marriage. Somehow, that small square of enameled cast iron managed to carry the spirit of three generations. Finding it was like finding home again – layer by layer, memory by memory.
Now, that trivet sits in my own kitchen. It’s more than a relic; it’s a reminder that home endures. It changes shape, it shifts addresses, it adapts with us – but the essence remains. Whether your home is bustling with family, quiet and peaceful, or still finding its way back to feeling like home again, may it always be your haven.
To all my readers, thank you for sharing this journey with me each week. Your messages, stories and kindness are part of what makes this mountain community so special. Wishing you joy, abundance, and all good things in 2026.
Theresa Grant is a real estate broker and columnist covering Lake Arrowhead, Crestline, Running Springs and the surrounding mountain communities. Reach her at (909) 442-1345, visit www.HomesInLakeArrowhead.com and follow her on social media, @TheresaGrantRealtor. Theresa is a Broker Associate with REAL Broker Technologies. DRE#01202881.
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