There’s No Place Like Home
But just where is it these days?
Home.
For more than 30 years, that’s been a ranch-style house in the suburbs of metro Detroit, conveniently located near highways and schools. The acre lot serves as home to huge beech trees, an abundance of wildlife and a productive vegetable garden, conveniently stretching the length of the driveway.
We raised two daughters, three dogs, four cats and numerous fish in this house, this amazing home. But a funny thing happened recently. One of our adult daughters visited us for a weekend, and called her partner to confirm when she was heading home. Not our home. Her home. Now that is exactly what we want to have happen with our adult children: They grow up and move out — at least most of the time. Hopefully they find a special person with whom to enjoy life. Perhaps a pet or two. We are proud grandparents of a cat and two ferrets.
But it struck me, that heading home comment. Just what is home? The official definition is lackluster: the place where one lives permanently. There is so much more interwoven in that simple word. Habitat for Humanity asked people what home means to them, and the responses were vivid. A comfort zone, a safe haven, a place of love.
If my loved ones move elsewhere, is this house still a home? Certainly the house is filled with homey memories. Framed pictures in every room clearly depict a place of love. All sorts of treasures tell the story of a family’s life together — the milestones, adventures, special purchases. And certainly they will regularly return for visits, making our 11-year-old dog whimper with happiness, as she reconnects with her tribe. Who am I kidding: their parents will whimper with happiness as they connect with their tribe.
My musings resulted in the idea of home more as a state of mind, reinforced by the physical structure, including all those pictures, gifts and stories. It’s the emotional pull of love, support, and deep belly laughs. Home is a piece of art on the kitchen windowsill, created by my three-year-old grandniece. It’s the plants my mom gifted me when she moved into assisted living, my husband’s treasures from traveling around the world. It’s wherever I am when a daughter calls with news or a need to talk. It’s the memories of an abundance of traditions: birthdays, graduation parties, decorating the Christmas tree, rolling in a pile of leaves, playing slop pool — the list is endless.
Perhaps this evolving concept of home began to emerge during the pandemic, when our tight-knit family remained in our separate “houses” and desperately needed to find ways to be together. We did the zoom calls and virtual game nights, of course. But when the first major holiday came along, we struggled with the concept of being apart. But we got the creative juices flowing and came up with a way to be together for dinner. We agreed on a menu and each person was assigned a dish to make, but it needed to be divided into three separate containers. We met outside at a park that was central to all, and standing in a large circle, we enjoyed virtual hugs then exchanged our food. We all headed back to our places, then ate together via Zoom. Maybe it was then that I began to expand my sense of home.
This reflection reminds me of an old poster I had in college: “Love is a verb, not a noun.” And I think the same is true of home. Another great saying is “Home is where the heart is.” So that means wherever my heart goes, that is home.
