Home

What is home? Is it where you live? Is it where you come from? Is it some unrealistic ideal?

For me it's a little of all of those. Home is where I lay my head down at night. It's where the people I love are. It's *supposed* to be neat and perfect and clean but it's none of those things.

For each person it's something different. But what if you have no "home"? What if your roots are so shallow that they can be pulled at any moment? Where does that leave you?

I spent some time recently talking with my mother in law about this idea. She was talking about how her childhood home has changed the way it feels for her. That when she goes "home" it doesn't mean what it used to. I remember a time when I went back to Pennsylvania it felt like I was "going home". Now when I go there it just feels like I am visiting.

For me home is something both concrete and abstract. If you ask me where home is I know exactly where and what it is. This isn't true for everyone. What I wonder is if you don't see any one place as "home" does it then mean that this is something you spend your days searching for. Is it something we need innately?

I suppose that your home changes every day. What it looks like. Who is in it. How it functions. What is home today may not be tomorrow. The thing I do know is that today I am happy to be home.