We’ve already touched on the life-affirming benefits of travel so perhaps it’s time to discuss the place you return to when your travels come to their inevitable end?
#35: Home.
Now before you get all worked up, my friends, I recognize that I’ve previously discussed the importance of finding a space to call your own, but a space is not a home and so this counts as an entirely different entry, okay?
A home isn’t necessarily a brick and mortar structure (or a shipping container or a tiny house) that takes twenty-five years to pay off, it’s a feeling, a feeling of:
- Serenity. (Unless you have a family.)
- Peace.
- Isolation when necessary.
- Acceptance.
- Love.
The last two are the most vital, of course, but let’s talk about the first one, shall we? I recently had an exchange with my daughter that turns the idea of finding serenity in one’s home on it’s ear. I came in from work late one night, had a shower (I always smell like luggage when I return from an eleven-hour bellman shift) and headed to the fridge to grab some grub. My kid had this to scream say the second she heard the refrigerator door open:
DAUGHTER: Nobody better touch the homemade mac and cheese Mom specifically made for me or I’ll castrate them!
ME: Well, I’m the only one in this household with boy parts… So I assume you’re talking about me!
DAUGHTER: You’re darn right I am! And by the way… Ewww!
To me, this is serenity encapsulated. Sure, it sounds more like a wake-up call for anyone that’s pondering whether or not to have a vasectomy, but familial chaos that can only be found in one’s home is worth living for because you know the person yelling back truly loves you. Deep down. Like, deep, deep down.
Home can be a feeling of knowing that no matter what you’ve done, or who you’ve decided to love or how you’ve chosen to live, you will be accepted. Unconditionally.
Home can even be a place where you chill out and enjoy a snack while you try to remember where you left your helmet.
Home can be the place where you know you will always be loved no matter what.
Sometimes we forget just how important is to have a place to call home to look back on or return to when the world closes in on us, as it tends to do. I once knew a man who, when faced with the prospect of being locked away from his home forever, took the only way out he could see. That’s how important a home can be; some of us would rather die than be denied the chance to walk through its doors again.
So cherish your home, wherever and whatever it may be. Never lose sight of it’s value. And for God’s sake, if you do, do whatever it takes to get it back. Ronnie was an integral part of my home and though I’ll never get him back, I’m grateful for every other part of it that I still have.
See you in the lobby, friends…
You've Been Hooked! 
I miss my house. It was always much more than bricks and mortar and an investment.
I’m glad to hear that, my friend, but as long as you have the love of friends and family, you’ll always have a home.
There are houses, then there are homes. We have been married almost 33 years and this house is the first “home” we have ever had. And we have moved 11 times… don’t ask. I love this place, our house, our community and where we live. It is also the longest place we have ever lived. I’m sorry Ronnie’s death has hit you so hard but I love the fact you have turned it into something positive! 😉
I’m trying, Courtney.
Your support helps immensely.
A home run, Hook. 😁
Your praise warms my frozen Canadian heart, John.
Not to mention lousy pun. 😀
I agree, that sense of being able to slump on the sofa and return to the porcine state that school, society et al. have for so long tried to lift you away from… my first such home was the flat I shared with 4 of my best mates and my now (long suffering) wife… wish I could get back there! Fabrizio
Thanks for weighing in, Fabrizio.
Home is wherever Hubby, Maggie and I are together.
Of course.
Beautifully put, my friend.
They are my world. 🙂
Home is the place where when you go there, they have to let you in. Typing this from a new one that I have high hopes for, so, impeccable timing?
I’d say so, Doug.
“… familial chaos that can only be found in one’s home is worth living for because you know the person yelling back truly loves you.” I never thought of it this way. Beautifully put. Thanks for giving me a new perspective.
Just returning the favor.
Wonderfully written and expressed here. I agree with all you say, and I’ll add that I treat a home as part of my family. Meaning, I “talk” to my home. Sometimes I touch the walls, peer up at the ceiling (we have some high ones), breathe in its air, and say (okay, you can smirk) but I say, THANK YOU. We make a home with our own vibes, and with the vibes of our loved once who share the space with us. A home breathes in those vibes, and surrounds us with the good ones. When I left my home of 17 years (the one we raised our kids in), oh, I cried saying goodbye. But I also touched the walls and breathed into the space and said, THANK YOU. I swear, it sighed ‘THANK YOU” back.
My house is haunted, so it may actually say “THANK YOU” back.
But I love this sentiment, old friend.
Wonderful post, as always. Your perspective on life and what’s really important is… well, there are a hundred words I could use to complete that sentence. Thank you, Hook!
I’m running out of steam, but I appreciate your support more than I can ever articulate, Jennie, thank you.
You are not running out of steam. Really. My support tells you so. You are most welcome, Hook. Your posts are funny and witty, yet they have a deeper purpose. You rock!
Home sweet home. It’s that sweet part…
Home has always been my favorite place. And it always feels more special to come home after being away.
It certainly does.
I’ve been on the road so long I’ve lost touch with so much. This was a good read and hello again.
Hello again, Andy.