Recently I have been thinking a lot about the nature of home. It started off simple enough - because of dinner plans, Suann got off the train in Larchmont, NY. My home town. And because I don’t like to be late I arrived in plenty of time to drive around. While I occasionally meet up with childhood friends, it’s been thirty plus years since I’ve traveled the once familiar routes. I didn’t remember all of the street names but I did remember the turns and where I played with my classmates. I drove past 714 Forest Ave where we lived until I entered kindergarten, then past Murray Avenue School where I attended kindergarten thru 6th grade and played hundreds of stickball games with my brothers and then 142 Murray where I lived until moving out in my early twenties. All the while, memories filled the car. And gratitude. Those places, they are home.
That night we had dinner with our friend Susan. Susan has known me for almost 40 years. She is home.
The next day a package arrived from Aruba Aloe. My mother discovered this great lotion the first time she and my dad visited Aruba. The beachy smell is home.
The last couple of weeks I have made a lot of Irish Soda Bread - the crank of the sifter, the handful of this and a sprinkle of that, is home.
I started this post a couple of weeks ago, not quite sure where I was going, thinking people far smarter than I am have probably written about the meaning of home. Each time I thought about it I kept returning to the old proverb, “Home is where your heart is.”
I’m 53 and as a wife, sister, in-law, aunt, great aunt, teacher, friend, aspiring poet/writer, beachcomber, reader, athlete, my heart lies in multiple places and because of this I’ve done some tweaking. From now on I’m going with, “Home is what fills your heart.”
LIFE IS RANDOM LOVE IS NOTTM
