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