family. life. laughter. beds. kitchen. haven. light. warmth. love. noise. smells. safety. parents. siblings. work. computer. yard. memories. happy. frustrations. room. food. internet. phones. hearts.
I have a superimposed image of home in my mind. Or, maybe, it's two thoughts composed into one that give me the whole picture of what home is. You see, home is a beautiful place - sometimes messy, overwhelming, and frustrating while at other times quite peaceful, melodious, and calm. Yet I normally can think of it as a safe place - a haven of work, rest, and useful, happy enterprise.
My home is down a dirt road, lodged on a four-acre lot - a mini-farm in the middle of the city. From the moment you arrive at this place you will immediately begin to hear a variety of noise. Whether it's the constant, yippy, annoying bark of the dogs or the sounds of laughter and voices talking, it's a place I've known my entire life. Though time and seasons have changed many things, there is always a happy feeling in my heart when I arrive home.
Truly, there is "no place like home." Apart from the people, memories, and time spent inside these walls and frolicking in the outdoors, 'home' wouldn't be much. That's why I can straightway tell you that home is not just four walls and a roof. No, it's way more than that. It's the wake-up noise in the morning of mom playing the piano loudly so we'll wake up, or banging on our doors and saying it is high time for us to be out of bed since the sun has been up for hours. It's smelling the awful smell of oatmeal floating up the stairs, confirming my idea that it'd be a much better idea to stay in bed. Or, on happier days, it's smelling the aroma of bacon, eggs and grits.
Home is where I can be real - whether it's real and scary when I get up in the morning or real and grumpy and opinionated about whatever it is that strikes me in the wrong way. That realness comes with a price, too, because it means that my siblings have a doorway to knowing what strikes my fancy, what [or whom] I love or hate, and what is the quickest way to get on my nerves or making me smile or cry. In this realness though, there is a closer bond because I know we're all together for the long haul.
Yet in the word 'home' I find a greater mystery that compels me. A dear friend told me that when she met her husband [to-be] she felt like she'd found home. Twenty-four years later, she still is madly in love and since her heart is her husband's, she's at home wherever he is. It's quite beautiful. Every time I see it, my heart is encouraged and filled with joy, love, and happiness. One day, I want to find home like that. It'll be a continuation of the miniature, noisy farm and hubbub of life that I live now, but it's all in my dreams: to find home.
