I have a home with my husband, cats, and dog. I have a home under the redwoods. I have a home that smells of pie and coffee this morning. This is my home. But it is not my only one. I am certainly not wealthy enough to own more than one home, but I belong to more than one home. I belong to my grandparents’ home. The home where I could always get really good hugs. The home with the swing set and back porch that was always cool even on the most humid of Wisconsin days. I belong there, too. I belong to my mother’s home. The home that I never grew up in, but wish I had. The home where my mother and I have had some of the most touching moments of my life. The home where we have baked and sewn and felted together as adults. As friends. The home where I realized my mother is not just a wonderful mother but a beautiful human being and friend.
Home is so much more than where you live. At this time of year, I always feel my heart-strings pulling into these three directions so hard that it feels as though my heart will burst through my chest and each little piece will fly away…
This is what home means to me.
What does home mean to you?