Nonna’s house is a magical place to my family, as soon as I set foot in the front door I feel a sense of calm. It’s a place of warmth, comfort and food, lots and lots of food. The smells that hit my nostrils as soon as I approach are like a welcoming hug. It takes me back to my childhood, when I was three I moved to Kalgoorlie while my mother cared for my terminally ill grandmother. The Unkovich’s were an elderly Croatian couple who lived next door, I spent a lot of my time there and they certainly knew how to make a kid feel welcome, one thing about European’s is they really treasure children. I have never felt so loved as when I was sitting at their kitchen table being stuffed with copious amounts of food and served like royalty. My Nonna (who is actually my husbands Nonna, but I have claimed her) is the same for my children. There’s always something cooking ready for unexpected visitors who drop by, always a lolly jar filled with the kids favourite treats. I often joke Nonna could only have dust left in her pantry and she would still make a meal worthy of master chef. Today we stopped by and it was no different it was also, coincidentally sausage making day, a tradition the Ricci’s have done for many years, everyone looks forward to it.
We built our house just over a year ago, it’s further away from Nonna and we don’t see her weekly anymore. I’ve tried to make our house feel more like a home, the only way I knew possible was with the Pinterest worthy inspired decor. In my visit to Nonna’s I realised my family loves her house not because of what it looks like, but because of who lives there. It’s filled with treasures that are priceless, photos of grandchildren and great grandchildren from family events like christenings and weddings are more precious than anything money could buy. Her house isn’t perfectly styled with matching photo frames or the latest trinket some Instagram influencer is peddling. It’s sometimes easy to get caught up in all the social media perfection, fake families posting perfectly lit photos, in perfectly staged homes that I had fallen into the trap of coveting what I don’t have. Buying some crappy mum craft on Instagram because it’s so “on fleek” that only ended up collecting dust and dating faster than chevron motif rug. Visiting Nonna’s is a reminder to be grateful for what I already have and to fill my house with memories not meaningless objects.