Whisking our way home from B.C. today and thinking about the novel. I am unplugged for the month. The novel is all until June anyway when I hope to have the first draft (which is a misnomer because I have rewritten plenty already) done.
Home is a subjective, isn’t it. You wouldn’t think I would feel attached to a spot so far from where I started out. I like the idea that as an adult a person is always between homes. Home is where one is and where one came from and where one is moving towards.
Alan Jackson wrote and sang a song about Home. In it he names his childhood home and declares it that only place he will ever call “home”. I know people who long for little patches of ground because of the better memories they perceive got left behind there and people who attach “home” to people only. Home is where the heart is held fast, I guess.
I think a lot about home these days. We are finishing up the outside reno on our home and then we will take a break before tackling what remains to be done inside. I am always mindful that this home will not be our forever one and yet at the same time, I don’t count on that either because life has so often had other plans for me than the ones I had for myself.
My mom is working on creating the home she always wanted but that Dad’s stingy ways and deep-rooted aversion to change kept her from having, but I wonder if she will find the comfort in it that she hopes for?
My brother, CB, searches for a home. Any home. I don’t think he will ever find one that holds him still.
MK the middle daughter is hoping for a new home amongst like-minded commune dwellers, but I fear she to will be disappointed. She is still too young to realize that if something is truly important, you should take charge of it yourself.
So, to recap, home is a place of the past. present and future. It is a subject and an object. A dream, a need and an idea.
When you are home, where is that exactly?
anniegirl1138 
me and my children. wherever that is… we’re usually ‘goofin’, dog wrasslin’ and being connected. other than that? i’m perpetually restless… no physical space, geographic location or dwelling has ever given me the same sense of belonging.
great question. my answer leaves me a little uncomfortable…
Wherever I can be with my wife and children freely and openly and without hindrance, that is home.
And welcome home, btw.
For me, home is the place I want to return to whenever I’m away somewhere, sometimes even after only a few hours. It used to be where my kids are, but that’s getting more complicated as they age. Good to think about it; thanks for the post.
I have two homes. My first home is at the dinner table with my wife and two daughters in suburban New Jersey. My other home is when I’m walking alone in New York City. I spent so many years on my own there that I can’t purge the feeling of belonging.
Well, I suppose for me home is not defined by the structure of 4-walls and a roof or by its geographical location but, is defined by the occupants I share it with.
Sometimes, I can stroll down memory lane and recall the home of my youth and all of its joys and splendor but prefer to keep at just that; fond memories. Nowadays, home for me is simply to be with my family. Though we do have a nice home in a very quiet & safe little town, none of it would matter if I couldn’t share it with thos I love.
Great question. Thanks for asking. Be well & have a good week.