Home has always been a constant for me, but which house I lived in, has never been a constant. Coming from an Army background I have traveled all my life. Between cities, between countries. Most places I’ve lived and some I’ve just visited. My recent trip to Doha to meet my cousin sister and her family. When I was there, it felt like I was home and that’s the reason I was prompted to write about what it means to be home.
At some point, we all leave home for a long period of time. Be it for college or a job or anything really. And when we do, we begin to miss home. We begin to miss the routines that we are brought up in. We know what mum will say when you tell her something, how papa will react or how your sibling will pounce on you if you even dared to touch their Maggi.
But what does it mean to be home? I understood this time in Doha. To be home is to be familiar. To be home is to be in a place where you’re welcome the way you are. Where you hear the words your loved ones use, the language, the culture.
While many believe that any place can be made a home, a lot of us who have traveled and lived all over the world, know how difficult it actually is. The theory is simple but realizing it is so difficult.
Home comes from a feeling of being comfortable. Where you don’t have to explain yourself constantly, where you’re always welcome.
Sometimes brick rooms feel like home, sometimes human souls, sometimes our furry friends. Home is a concept. It’s where your heart is the happiest, safest.
Home is where you can shed your fears and conquer your dreams.
That’s it. It’s quite simple really. Home feels right.
Image by Cameron Kirby