What does home mean to you?
Growing up I always thought the house you grew up in was your home and I wouldn’t have been wrong, not from a child's viewoint anyway because what child wouldn’t think the same? However over time it became apparent to me that home would always be wherever my mother was. My mother has always constituted what home means. I’m sure I’m not the only adult child who feels this way. Maybe I felt so strongly (and still do) because I resided at home with my mother for the first 30 years of my life, although from my twenties onward I didn’t sleep at home very much at all. I basically lived with my friend Shannon during the year her husband was away, and after that year I more or less lived with my ex-boyfriend for two years. Although he wanted the move to be permanent, I could never quite bring myself to make the move official. The reason behind my logic was that I didn’t want to move out of my parents house until I knew I wouldn’t have to move back. Ok, I will admit it… I was comfortable there with mom. I’m a mama’s girl and always will be. Either way, the choices I made were right because obviously my ex and I didn’t work out. I guess what I’m trying to say is this: my home in Nova Scotia wouldn’t feel so much like home without my mother in it. (And thanks to the amazing treatment she has received, as well as her own fighting spirit, we can gratefully continue to go home to our mom, hopefully for many years to come.)
When I moved to England the flat we lived in never had a chance to feel like home before we moved into a mews house (two up, two down). Our little house was cosy, though cramped and although we lived there two years, I still never really felt like I was living in my own home, nor could I seem to refer to England as home. Home was back in Nova Scotia. (I believe it took me a little longer to adapt because of the closeness I have with my mom and siblings, as well as the fondness I will always hold for Nova Scotia.) It wasn’t until we moved into the house we currently live in that it started to feel like a home of my own, however even that has taken some time. It’s not the fact that we have made it ours by putting our own personal touches on it (although it helps), I think it’s the fact that mine and Andy’s relationship has grown and evolved so much in recent years that I wouldn’t want to live anyplace else if he wasn’t there with me. Other factors would be the closeness I have with his children and family; My relationship with my friend Dawn, my sister from another mister, and her family has grown much deeper in recent years; I love how her son can just pop around to our house when he feels like it, how the dogs know the way to each other’s door and ultimately, how we all look out for each other. They have become family.
So my answer for what home means to me would be wherever the people I love most are; a house is just a building. Sure it can be full of beautiful memories and lovely items but it’s not what makes it ‘home’, not quite. Home is wherever you can go to feel the warmth, love and acceptance of those that you care about most in the world.
I guess that means I’m doubly blessed because I have more than one place that I call home.