Home.  A relative term.  Think about it.

We all know those who have spent their entire lives in the
same one, sometimes generation after generation.  And I’ve seen it brings no more stability and inner peace as those who move around because of work, family, environmental needs, excitement for change, a desire to learn and grow, or some need to get away.

A home forever, or for now. Each have their benefits and draw backs.  Yet each is only as strong and stable and beautiful as we make it.  And that’s it, isn’t it?  Home is what we make it to be.  Where ever we are.  That strength, that stability, that beauty…
it’s not found around us.  It’s in us.  Or not.

We may cling to its walls to find our own strength, or for
fear we will be lost without, unable to define who we are.  The walls do not define you, but may confine you.

Have we forgotten that we built those walls?  Therefore, ultimately, the strength once again isn’t in the logs or boards or plaster or stone, but in the hands and minds and dreams that built them.

I’m finally getting what I’ve been told for years. At least today.  Tomorrow may be something different.