It isn’t a place.
I stood looking at all the boxes I just packed and put into storage. Boxes of stuff I don’t have an immediate need for. Boxes of time and money spent on things to make life easier and hopefully happier. Too many years searching and collecting the wrong things.
I went back home to a mostly empty house, staged and ready to sell. Nothing personal left to hint at who we were. No pictures. No little stickers my daughter placed haphazardly on switch covers. No calendar with plans penciled in. No messes left to clean. All the little things that made it feel like home… were gone.
I don’t know how long I stood in the quiet watching the sunlight flood in through the windows. “Baby steps” I whispered to myself. I am starting with a clean slate. And then I started crying.
I realized the home I had was gone. Not the house I was standing in but the place I made “home” for the past 26 years was gone. It had actually been gone for years already. My family and I have been homeless.
We are selling our house and working on finding a place to live. But we are also searching for a home. I want a home that feels safe and secure. I want to continue being a “home” for my daughter. And then I pictured a few people I know very well and just thinking about them made me feel at home.
I discovered I haven’t been homeless at all.
We find “home” in the people around us. We are at home with the world when we find people who love us and accept us completely. People we can trust to be there for us. Friends and family who make us feel safe and at peace. We can be ANYWHERE as long as they are near.
I have a few people who are home for me.
Who makes you feel at home?