this weekend we are guests at a historic and beautiful bed & breakfast on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
or, i could say, this weekend we are going to my parents house.
or, i could say, this weekend we are going to my parents house.
since my parents run the B&B in their home, both statements are true. i am the innkeeper's daughter. and i have to admit, it's pretty cool.
most of the time, when we come here, we are the only ones here or we are here with my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. on those visits, my parents are "off." on those visits, they don't take reservations, telling callers they are all booked. the house becomes home. we don't need the sheets refreshed in the morning, we're happy to have cold cereal for breakfast, we spend endless hours at the beach, we're as loud and rowdy [and messy] as we want to be, and we don't have to check out at a certain time [although my dad jokes that he wants us gone first thing Sunday morning. i think he's joking.]
while it's just as fun and relaxing, this weekend is different. it's a full house. they have guests in every room every night, which is typical for them. my mom is up making breakfast for them before the sun rises, setting the table with blooming magnolias and fresh squeezed orange juice. she gives tours of the home, proudly telling guests the history behind the architecture and original homeowners. she dons her logo-embroidered aporn, makes sure guests sign the guestbook, and runs their credit cards at checkout time.
this weekend, i am making an effort to see the B&B thru the eyes of a guest. just for fun, i'm stepping out of the shoes of the Innkeeper's Daughter. i am noticing the little things in the house that give it it's warmth and charm. i am paying attention to the details in the decor that make the oldest house in Texas feel like home. i'm seeing the selfless, heartfelt hospitality that makes people that aren't family come back to stay here again and again.
here's what i see:
most of the time, when we come here, we are the only ones here or we are here with my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. on those visits, my parents are "off." on those visits, they don't take reservations, telling callers they are all booked. the house becomes home. we don't need the sheets refreshed in the morning, we're happy to have cold cereal for breakfast, we spend endless hours at the beach, we're as loud and rowdy [and messy] as we want to be, and we don't have to check out at a certain time [although my dad jokes that he wants us gone first thing Sunday morning. i think he's joking.]
while it's just as fun and relaxing, this weekend is different. it's a full house. they have guests in every room every night, which is typical for them. my mom is up making breakfast for them before the sun rises, setting the table with blooming magnolias and fresh squeezed orange juice. she gives tours of the home, proudly telling guests the history behind the architecture and original homeowners. she dons her logo-embroidered aporn, makes sure guests sign the guestbook, and runs their credit cards at checkout time.
this weekend, i am making an effort to see the B&B thru the eyes of a guest. just for fun, i'm stepping out of the shoes of the Innkeeper's Daughter. i am noticing the little things in the house that give it it's warmth and charm. i am paying attention to the details in the decor that make the oldest house in Texas feel like home. i'm seeing the selfless, heartfelt hospitality that makes people that aren't family come back to stay here again and again.
here's what i see:
lacey windows framing the sunrise over the beach.
the innkeeper preparing a delicious breakfast.
