WHAT DOES HOME MEAN
TO YOU NOW?
I’ve realized
that the definition of home for me has changed over the years. It no longer
centres around a certain structure, an address.
The house I grew
up in was a small cottage filled with love, laughter, stories, discipline, and
routine. There was Mom, Dad, my brother, and me. The walls echoed the sounds of
happy chatter or noise. These are now simply memories that I visit now and
again.
At 61, home may
have various connotations:
It’s a sanctuary of love for rest
Home is where I unmask
and let go of the persona I present to the outside world. It’s my landing pad,
where I kick off my shoes, turn on the music if the silence gets too loud and
am my quirky best.
‘Home
Sweet Home’ is a slightly disorganised space where plants wait to be
watered, or a pile of books need to be arranged or furniture needs to be
dusted. The kitchen in my home may not be the Cordon Bleu kind, but I enjoy
rustling up meals for loved ones without really worrying too much about spilled
gravy.
People can be home too. The ones who have stayed with me in storms and in
sunshine, the ones who do not pass judgement or make hurtful comments, the few
who understand and to whom I do not owe lengthy explanations, and the few who
choose to listen.
The little rituals that I indulge in also feel like
home
Listening to the
birds outside my window as I sip my morning brew, practising chair yoga, or
spending a quiet evening reading, sitting in my favourite spot.
Home can hence
be defined in various ways. As one grows older, the definition of home being a
bricks and mortar structure is rapidly replaced by places, people and moments
that make us feel held, understood and at peace.
This post is part of the Blogchatter #WAPAD2026 challenge.
Image: Pixabay
