Dorothy was right when she closed her eyes and clicked her ruby slippers three times and whispered… There’s no place like home….even when home seemed black and white compared to the technicolor of that other place. Home is where the heart is… Home is where your people are. Just as in baseball, home is your safety zone. I never realize this truth more than when I travel. As much as I love the exploration and the learning involved in new places and foreign lands, I dearly love coming home again. Home is where your yesterdays are buried ever so deep. Home is the familiar. It is the comfort of just being, without having to use mental resources to monitor your surroundings. It is lazy nebulous pleasure of sleeping in your own bed and waking to know exactly where you are. It is the crazy wonderful certainty of knowing how to get places without pulling out a map.
Just the mention of the word conjures up in an image in my head…I’m going home….I can feel it? For me, it is far beyond walls and a roof. It involves the sensory memories of smells, tastes, feels, and sounds. I remember when my childhood sense of home switched to my adult one. It was upon the birth of my first child. From that point, home was wherever WE were. It moved from a street address to one forever stamped across my heart.
I am thankful beyond belief for the gift of my sense of home. For those who are homeless, either physically or emotionally, I pray one day this Blessing may be returned to them in full measure.
Just like anything that has blended into the obscurity of our surroundings, I think we need to go away….just so we can come home….and remember….and be thankful…. and love it even more. Tree Star!!!
“Home wasn’t a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” ~ Sarah Dessen