Home is where the heart is, so says the old saying. Photo by Bgulac at Pixabay

Home is Where…

Home is where the heart is. Hearth and Home. Home seems like a place, but it is not. Home is abstract and real at the same time. There is also your home, and the home that is someone else’s. You can tell the difference, and so can they.

For some, the streets are home. Others call their tiny apartment, their suburban house, or a secluded mansion, home.

Going home is a real action, to a real place–though I just said it wasn’t–because in your mind, that is where home is. It is where you live, or not. For some, home is a place where they once lived and no longer do, but going home doesn’t necessarily mean the same thing to two people, even though they live in the same place. Usually, going home is a good thing filled with memories and warmth; a family place of love and belonging. A place that smells right, feels right, and welcomes you with open arms.

For some people, going home is the worst thing. Fear bubbles up, an ill feeling. They don’t want to go home. And yet, they still call that place home.

Home can be multiple places. I am at home in my house, or at my family’s north-woods cabin. Those places feel like home and they are home to me. If my wife is with me, they feel even more like home.

Once, I lived alone in a small apartment. I never called it home.

“Where ya going?”

Back to my place.

Back to my apartment.

Back to the basement (garden apartment.)

Back to… anyplace but home.

College dorm rooms, after college apartments with roommates. A place in the country. A place in the city. Always our place, or my place. Never home.

How does one explain home? Maybe, home really is where your heart is. And despite that home is not a good place for some people, somehow, in some way, that is where their heart is.

Growing up, home was where I lived. Mom, Dad, my brothers. It felt good to be home and I wanted to be there. Now, home is still where I live and feels good to be here. Some people would call me a home body. I like being home. I enjoy it.

Oh sure, I love to get out and go on my explorations and my adventures. Go fishing on some remote lake or sit in a duck blind on a frozen marsh with the wind and snow in my face.

Where do I go after after the adventure? I go home.

Home. Where is your home?

Copyright © 2013 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.