After six weeks of solo travel in my Toyota Tundra, I’m home. The joys of being home are myriad: A cup of tea in my favorite mug from the Victoria and Albert Museum, the purr of my kit-tehs, the sound of rain on my roof, the blessing of sleeping in my own bed. Lovely.
“Home” dates back to the Anglo Saxon chronicles, suggesting the word is well over a thousand years old. OED has lots of definitions for it, one of my favorites being:
A refuge, a sanctuary; a place or region to which one naturally belongs or where one feels at ease.
I also, though, like Robert Frost’s definition: “Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” I’ve gone home in that sense, too, and my daughter has come home on the same terms.
Home is a lovely word and a wonderful idea. May you always have somewhere that gives your heart a sense of home.
Ooohh, what a great one!
It makes me really REMIND me of my home. If I think, how often everybody uses this word without really recognising the actual meaning, like “LEt’s go home” and you usually just mean ‘go to the house where you live in’ or ‘let’s leave here’…
Now, I don’t know if that picture up there REALLY shows your home, but this house so strongly reminds me of my temporary home when I spent a year abroad in England. It was called LEigh Court Cottage, also had a big glass window on one side being the kitchen and above was my room. And all around green stuff and squirrels and just England…