Home is one of those words that we know when we experience it. If you ask someone to define home, then you get almost as many different answers as there are people. Home can be as simple as four walls and a roof but is also so much more. After all, home is where the heart is. Home is where you feel most comfortable. Home can be family, friends, or lovers. Or it is simply a feeling we experience and not limited to specifics.
This past weekend my boyfriend and I went to Virginia to visit my sister and her husband. It was a much needed get-a-way from work and life. And if you are new to my blog then let me start by saying Virginia is where I was born and raised. It was my home until I went to college in 1992. The only reason I go back to Virginia is because of my sister and her husband. Yes, my father is still alive, but is very much a large part of the reason I left. Seeing my sister and brother-in-law is very important to me. Mostly, they are the only real blood family that I have left.
While there, Karl, my boyfriend, pointed out that I still referred to the place as home, when talking. Even though I have such animosity about the place. That got me to thinking about the reasons for still calling it home. Nineteen years living in the same place can have an impact on you. It was my home and maybe part of me tries to remember some of the good times that made me see it as home. Perhaps it is because my sister and brother-in-law still live there. Or it could simply be a habit.
Living here in Ohio has become my home in the last four years and I have my family here, as well. The people I live with have been a part of my life for as many years as i have lived in Virginia, so yes, living with them is like living with my real family, just less of the drama that blood can cause. Aside from my sister and her husband, they have been the ones that have welcomed me without thought of my sexual orientation, beliefs, anything else. They have only opened their doors and hearts and welcomed me.
A year and a half ago Karl came into my life. When I first saw him, I knew he was the person I wanted in my life. I tried many times, initially, to make some kind of impression. The first time we kissed was when I realized what home truly felt like. The minute I shared his bed and it was as if all other definitions of that world simply fell away. He is who I want to build a “home” with. There, it’s out to the universe and the interwebs now, no taking it back. The feeling of home is where all of your facades simply fall away and you can be you. This is how I feel each and every day with him.
So yes, the term home is a confusing adjective, adverb, verb, and noun. How it relates to or what its meaning is to me is entirely subjective on the intentions of the meaning. I am sure each of you have similar feelings when it comes to using that word. I am okay with the fact that the term home can invoke feelings of days gone by and the anxiety many of them caused and also remind me of the warmth that slips over me when I am sitting next to my boyfriend on the couch watching a movie, sharing a glass of wine, and just venting about what’s on our mind. For me, its important that the word be as complex and forgiving as I need it to be. All while still being able to convey the safety and protection that it should conjure to mind.
With the holiday season kicking off, the notion of “home” is more in the forefront of our thinking. The next two holidays evoke in us a sense of communing with family. Gathering around a large table to share a feast and even exchanging gifts we meticulously picked out, based on what we know of our family. It is this time of year that the true nature of the word sinks into our very soul. There is no right definition of home. We can label it a million different ways but it is always subjective to our point of view and understanding. How does it define your feelings? Let me know in the comments about your feelings and meanings of the word. I would love to hear them.