Making a house home

There are those who spend their whole life in one house. Though they are few, they never ask the question: how do we make a house a home? Home is synonymous with the actual house they dwell in; since they never have more than two (their own and their parents'), that definition works. The people, the scenery, the buildings are seen to change from time to time, but most are slow enough to be assimilated into the feeling of home.

But what about the rest of us? How do the wanderers make a home? In the Laura Ingalls books, there was a little china doll that was placed on the mantle to mark a house a home. That was when the Ingalls children knew that they were staying put for awhile. Others in this world need to have a meal with invited guests to mark a house home. Some feel the need to decorate: putting up family pictures is a common choice in that definition.

I have been in many dwellings, fewer than many of my friends yet more than many, many others. Those dwellings have been in four different continents and numerous varieties of culture. I always felt that I would never have a home. Perhaps, if I was alone, that would be alright. I have a family, and that makes it a very different problem. My family needs a place to nest, to rest themselves, to work, a place to call their own domain. Maybe that's the key to this conundrum: once you are able to define your space and mark it as your own on a permanent (as far as you are aware) basis, then you are home. For adults, that would include a job, the location where you provide for your domain, as well as kitchens, living rooms, studys, etc. For children, all they need is a treehouse: a few planks to stash their stuff, sleep, and live.

Home. As soon as I find a place to call home for a little while, I feel the urge to be moving again, to find out if I can live in a new home, and learn what they have. Perhaps this time, I can explore the nuances of this culture, embed myself and my family in it. Then, maybe, it'll be more like home.