Home

11 May

The definition of the word home is this:

a)      A place where one lives; a residence.

b)      An environment offering security and happiness

c)      A valued place regarded as a refuge or a place of origin.

d)     The place where one was born of has lived for a long period

I think that’s pretty vague, don’t you?

My definition of the word home is somewhere where you belong, where you feel like you are meant to be or somewhere that you can always return to in times of crisis and be welcomed with open arms, no questions asked. I don’t think it necessarily has to be your birthplace, your home town or your house, because a house isn’t a home. A house is four walls and a door; panes of glass and lumps of sand cleverly crafted to protect us from the elements; the wind and rain, the beating of the sun. But it was never designed to protect us from emotions; words and actions that might cause our heart to hurt rather than our bones or skin.

We can have a house, but without feeling like we have a home, are we destined to become nomadic, unsettled personalities struggling to feel welcomed anywhere?

It’s an interesting concept.

My parents split when I was fifteen. As is the way with broken homes, both moved to new houses, and when they sold the family home that I had grown up in I moved into a house share. I was young and wounded, and it seemed like a pretty good idea to me at the time. Best laid plans and all that. So if I am defined by a) and d), does that mean that I am metaphorically homeless? I have never spent a prolonged amount of time in the residence of either my mother or my father, apart from this year when I have been living in (relative) harmony with my dad. Am I a refugee of this home scam?

Where is home to you? To me home is with my granny and granddad, in an upside down house by the creek. The bedrooms are all downstairs and the lounge looks out over the water. In the morning, if you aren’t woken up by my granddad whistling, you will wake to hear the sound of the clicking of the sails being buffered in the breeze; the little yachts moored on the pier waiting for their chance to go out on the open waters. You might sit out on the balcony with my granddad and have a beer, or go for a walk to the town with my granny, or you might visit the shed in the garden where the tooth fairy lives. But if you ever get the chance to go there, I hope you feel like you are going home too. They never ask why you want to be there, or worry you about what is wrong, but make you feel like you have just walked into the front door of the home you have always had.

So it might not be conventional (it seems nothing with me ever is) but its home.

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9 Responses to “Home”

  1. mairedubhtx May 11, 2011 at 11:44 am #

    I have a home, a place where I live, but my real home is gone now since my parents have died. It was to their home that I knew I could always go and be welcomed and loved. That is gone now. My home is my sanctuary, the place where I go for safety and security and protection, but it doesn’t feel like a real home because my parents aren’t there.

  2. vixter2010 May 11, 2011 at 12:29 pm #

    Wow 15 was so young to move out you’re so brave. I’m lucky in that I still have my childhood home, I still live there and it really is home. Your grandparents home sounds amazing, I can see why you love it so much!

    • tinkerbelle86 May 11, 2011 at 12:39 pm #

      ah that reads wrong. my parents didnt sell the house till i turned 18, so i moved out then. they split up when i was 15.

  3. Julia (AKA Jules) May 11, 2011 at 2:51 pm #

    home to me is where I am at now – with my mum & dad… but I want to move out soon…. I feel more at home in Ireland than England….. but now would like to move to Oz!! (Maybe I can tag along with bro & sis-in-law?!) xx

  4. Melissa's Meanderings May 11, 2011 at 3:38 pm #

    I am so glad for you that you have a place (or actually more importantly -people) who make you feel at home. And I wish the same for everyone!

  5. prenin May 11, 2011 at 6:34 pm #

    I lived most of my life in a house where violence and verbal abuse were ‘normal’.

    When I left it was to live with a friend who had issues of her own and after two months I got my current place of residence and IT became home, a home I have defended with blood, sweat and tears for 24 years 10 months.

    Today all is serene and I am happy, despite having a few neighbours from Hell who used my vulnerability to enrich themselves (Bob and Doug both spring to mind), but I have proven myself to be the better man in the end!

    You cannot choose your family or neighbours, but you CAN choose your friends and when you find your perfect home you know you will be there either a lifetime, or many years.

    I have no plans to move out…

    Love and hugs!

    Prenin.

  6. myblogject May 11, 2011 at 7:59 pm #

    Home for me is about where you feel the happiest, content and secure. For me me uni days, in any house, made me feel at home, as I was so happy. THe city, and the rooms I lived in that was my home, my place and my own roots.
    I think wherever you feel safe, even just by seeing the name of the train station as you roll in, or the familiar city sights when you drive back. When you get butterflies – that’s home. house, box, or whole city. for me that’s what home is.

  7. The Hook May 11, 2011 at 8:09 pm #

    Wherever you lay your hat is home, right? Great post!

  8. Yasky May 11, 2011 at 11:28 pm #

    The world is more connected than one may be able to fathom. These thoughts have been racing through my mind recently. The concept of home is lost to distance but maturity brings it back to wherever you will it to be. (that last sentence probably didn’t make sense – it’s more of a raw thought). Great post!!!

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