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26 Mar

What is a home?

If you Google it you get:

Noun
The place where one lives permanently, esp. as a member of a family or household.
Adjective
Of or relating to the place where one lives: “your home address”.
Adverb
To the place where one lives: “what time did he get home last night?”.
Verb
(of an animal) Return by instinct to its territory after leaving it: “geese homing to their summer nesting grounds”.
Synonyms
noun. house – residence – dwelling – abode – habitation
adjective. domestic – native
adverb. homewards – at home – indoors

Wikipedia will give a similar answer, but I am not the only one to contemplate the word’s meaning beyond a physical structure or area.

The saying goes that the home is where the heart is. What if you’re heart lives everywhere. Does that mean you are homeless? or schizophrenic? Then, what becomes of your body which can only remain in any one place at any one time?

Growing up, my family moved around a lot. My mother was never satisfied with the space we physically occupied. Never satisfied with the places that sheltered us. I never had one specific place to call my “home.” Perhaps that is why I wander so much, yet at the same time yearn to be grounded.

It perhaps is also why I struggle with that initial question so much. What is a home?

My home has always been where my family is. No matter where I go I always refer to where they are as my “home” (even if that changes often).

I also continuously end up calling the building where I sleep most often “home” as well. This can get very confusing in conversations I have with others who often find the need to ask “which home?”

To complicate things even further, although I would never verbally refer to either of these places as “home,” Gordon, where I found who I was, and Vermont, where I found who I was not, are both filed under the box in my heart as “home.”

The list could go on from there, but I think you get the point.

There is a line in a Something Corporate song that I love, “I met a girl who kept tattoos for homes that she had loved. If I were her I’d paint my body until all my skin was gone.” The song itself is fantastic, all about taking risks, seeing the world as an adventure and being a part of something bigger, at least that’s what I get out of it.

Its hard to leave the homes you love. Whether home means a place you’ve been your whole life, or the places your heart has found shelter. The more homes you have, the more full you feel, but the harder it is to look back, and sometimes to look forward.

LP and I went to Ikea yesterday. We bought a coffee table and while we were out I bought new sheets for my new bed along with some other random details that now are part of this home we’ve created. For now its complete, whole. She called it OUR home, and I agreed because that’s what it is. We live here together and form it into something that feels like we belong in it. Its a place to ground myself for awhile and I am blessed to share it with someone I love. I know I’ll have to leave it one day, and probably a piece of me will stay, always connected, but the memories will move with me me and I’ll always have this moment in time.

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