Lately I have been thinking a lot about home, and what that word means. I have come to the conclusion that it can mean different things to different people, even at different times. As I write this, I’m sitting at the kitchen table at my in-law’s cabin. Those that know me know that this is my happy place, and that I love coming and working here. Home can be anywhere. When I’m here, it feels like home. The view, my different routine, and the gratitude that I carry each day I’m here looking out at the lake, all make this a home away from home.
Similarly, home can be as grandiose or as simple as you need it to be. I look at the stage of life that my two daughters are in right now and think of their places that they have lived over the last few years and know that home can be curated. From a simple dorm room, with room for a single bed, a desk and chair, to sharing an old house with roommates. I also was thinking about some of my friends that are “snowbirds”. So many have properties that they winter in, whether it’s in Mexico, Europe, or the US. I know that while they are away, they feel like they are at home, and when they come back, they feel like they are coming home.
Home isn’t about the structure; it is about the feeling. If you feel safe, comfortable, and content then you are probably at home. Home really is where the heart is.
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