When I saw that this months theme for NaBloPoMo was Home I thought to myself, great... again with nothing to write about. But it really made me stop and think about what the word "home" means. In its literal translation it means where you live. But to me that is a house. To me a home is where we feel affection and security, the place where when things are bad you want to be.
Growing up my home was with my grandparents. It was there that I felt free to just be myself. There that I felt loved.
Moving to Indiana didn't just tear me away from family, it took my home away. And it wasn't until a few years ago that I truly felt as though I again had a home. Yes, I always had a house. But it was one where I felt like an outsider, never to fit in.
I think that I tried a lot of things in my youth in the search of home. In search of that place where I was loved unconditionally. It was not until I met the man who would become my husband that I came home. And in finding my husband I learned that home isn't necessarily a place.
We have an apartment and we are happy with it for now, but it isn't home. Home for me is where he is. I feel it when I walk in the door after a bad day and he is there to hold me. I feel it when he walks in every night, kisses me, and hugs me. This is home and there's no place better.