My Home is Precious

The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned. –Maya Angelou

When I think of home I immediately start singing the lyrics from the song Home from the Broadway play The Wiz, lyrics by Charlie Smalls.

When I think of home
I think of a place where there’s love overflowing
I wish I was home
I wish I was back there with the things I been knowing

When I think of home, I think of a place
Where there’s love overflowing
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there
With the things I’ve been knowin’
Wind that makes the tall grass bend into leaning
Suddenly the raindrops that fall they have a meaning
Sprinkling the scene
Makes it all clean

Home is a lot of things to me but primarily home is feelings vs an actual place. Home is smells, memories, sounds and people. I think of my sisters, my Mom and my Step-Dad. They are my home and my heart.

Another home for me is Long Island where I was born. Summers spent there were in the house that my Mom was raised in and the same house her sister, my Aunt & her husband raised my cousins in. And my Aunt & Uncle still live there today. That house on the hill is home. Soaked into the walls is coziness, love, tears, the air is filled with loud voices, laughter and the aroma of good food.

Home for me is people and feelings and for those reasons I carry home with me wherever I go which is crucial because some of the houses I’ve lived in are no longer standing – torn down in the name of progress but I can vividly see every room in them. I can smell the kitchen and feel the warmth of the fireplaces. And I hear the laughter when my sister and I purchased a Christmas tree one year that was so big that it scraped the ceiling. We pushed and prodded that bad boy into place and didn’t really need to use the base to set the tree in but we did, just in case. When my Mom saw the tree she thought we were crazy but when we got done stringing it with real popcorn and dressing it up with all the decorations she couldn’t stop bragging on it to anyone who would listen.

I take home everywhere with me. I know I am lucky. Not everyone has a home to hark back to. That knowledge makes my internal home more precious. I hope your home is memory-filled and strong enough to carry you through the rough patches in life; if it isn’t and doesn’t then get busy and create such a place for yourself. Then: Guard it. Realize everyone can’t be invited in. Know that it is sacred.

Home

 

 

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