“Are you going home for (insert name of holiday here)?” It’s a pretty common question asked of those of us who don’t currently live within a stone’s throw of the house they grew up in.
What is “home”?
Nine years ago my husband and I got married and I moved in with him. We live in the house he grew up in with his mother. He’s lived here a good portion of his life. He likes to joke that he likes living here because he can find the bathroom in the dark. I think it’s pretty safe to say this is home to him.
But, last weekend we had the opportunity to see the newly- remodeled interior of the house my husband’s father and step-mom lived in for 40 years. While he never lived there full time he spent an awful lot of time there as a child and as an adult. It was a second home. He shared a lot of great memories with the new homeowners and we are so thankful that they allowed us to come poke around their stuff for a while. As we were leaving it felt good. It felt like closure. That house is someone else’s home now.
My parents do still live in the house I grew up in. On occasion I do spend the night there. But that house isn’t home to me anymore. It’s my mom and dad’s house now. I sleep on the couch now. You don’t sleep on the couch at home- at least not very often I hope.
To some people home will always be the house or the town or the neighborhood they grew up in. For me I guess it really is true that “Home is where the Heart Is”. For me, home is where I am right now. My home is where my stuff is. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.