I was reading the latest WordPress Photo Challenge about “Home,” and thought, hey, that sounds more like a post challenge than a photo challenge. Reckon it could be both, though, eh? I mean, the two go together . . . a photo of what makes me think of home, and a post about the home(s) I grew up in – and changes that I’d make/not make to them. I sure wish I had some pictures of those – but, alas, I don’t. It’s just as well, though. They were houses, not homes.
My home is much more than a house. It’s a mindset. A feeling of belonging, no matter what type of building I run to for shelter from the elements. That old saying, “Home is where you hang your hat,” isn’t entirely accurate, but it’s close enough. Why isn’t it entirely accurate?? See, you COULD hang your hat in somebody’s house that doesn’t really want to claim you as part of their home. Then they’d be obliged to say to you, “Here’s your hat what’s your hurry.” Kind of puts a hitch in your gitalong when that happens. Takes the starch right out of your collar!
So, then . . . what exactly is my idea of home? I’m glad you asked. It’s a place where I feel welcome, included, a necessary thread in the fabric of my surroundings. That doesn’t necessarily intimate that my surroundings are always pleasant – it just means that no matter what is going on around me, I have a place I can go to “get away from it all.” Even when there is domestic turmoil (as in my childhood), I always felt accepted by my siblings – an integral part of our family’s fabric. The world was falling down around our ears, but we had each other. That was home.
What would I change about home? Nothing. Well, maybe just that one thing, that one time. But that had nothing to do with my concept of home, so I guess it doesn’t count.(And yes, that IS the kitchen sink you see in the photo, with a fire in it. I’ll be most happy to explain it to anyone interested in hearing the story. )