I’m Slowly Learning That Home Is More Than Just A Place

I used to think that home was a place or a person. I thought that home was something physical, something I could touch with my own two hands. Home was something I thought I could search for. It was a destination, rather than a way of living.

But slowly I’m learning that home is so more than a person or a place. Home is so much more than something tangible. It’s much more than a brick house with old blue shutters. It’s much more than an old sweater that you’ve had since you were 13. 

Home is not confined by the walls of something physical. It’s not confined to a certain place, or to one specific person.

Home is a feeling. It’s the feeling you get when things are exactly how are they are supposed to be.

Home is a state of grace. It’s that “just right” feeling, when you know you are okay; when you know that you are safe. Home is a perfectly imperfect state of patient grace.

Home is the cozy feeling you get when you sit by the fireplace with a warm quilt and your very best friend. It’s the comforting feeling you get when you share space with someone, even in silence, when no words are spoken. Home is the feeling you get when you know that someone is waiting up for you. It’s knowing that someone is wondering what you are doing at this exact moment in time.

Home is the feeling you get when you see your face in the mirror and you notice your naturally rosy cheeks. It’s when you notice your cute dimples and the beauty mark on your chin. It’s when you look at your reflection and you see someone who glows, someone who has been through the storms and still shines brightly.

Home is the feeling you get when you feel a special connection with someone. It’s when the two of you giggle at something that no one else thinks is funny. It’s the feeling you get when you know that someone else sees the sparkle in your eyes, and has that very same sparkle in their own eyes.

Home is the gentle, loving feeling that comforts you when you finally become friends with your body. Home is when you can settle into your own delicate curves and edges and know that you are exactly who you are supposed to be. It’s when you know longer feel lost or out of place in your own skin.

Home is the sweetest hello kiss and the warmest goodbye hug. It’s the hug that you never want to end. It’s the kiss that feels magical, the kiss that lifts you off of your feet and into the air.

Home is the freedom you feel when you walk barefoot on the beach, letting your toes sink into the warm sand. It’s the feeling you get when you look out at the infinite waves and are struck by how mystical the world is. Home is when you see that you are a part of the magic. It’s when you know that you hold space in this tiny, perfect universe. It’s when you see that you are an essential piece of something spectacular.

Home is falling to sleep under the comfort of the sparkling skies and the glowing yellow moon, knowing that you are safe, you are loved, and you are infinite.