Yes, we are still at Home

I know, I know, this should have been posted a little earlier, but as the popular saying say; rather late than never.

Home, what is home?

So, what is it? The dictionary gives us all kinds of definitions for the word home; a house, an apartment * or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, a place of residence or refuge, a place in which one’s domestic affections are centred, among other things. Do any of them make sense to you? Quite possibly.


Home is quite often associated with one’s house. This is quite a logical association since the main goal of having a house is to make a home out of it. So what makes it a home? I don’t think there is a universal answer to this one, so from here on, my personal opinion comes into play. Home is one’s refuge, a place where you can isolate yourself from the world and forget all the problems that haunt you. A place where you can be yourself, where you can be free.

Some say home is where the heart is. I tend to associate this phrase with people that have lived in various places around the world and managed to find home in every one of them. So home can also be a memory, a memory of a place or time that stays in your mind for ever. A place or time where you feel complete.
Even though home may represent a whole different thing from person to person, there is a common ground that binds them together. That one special feeling you get when you are at home, when you make yourself at home.

Home can be whatever you want it to be; your childhood house, a little cottage by the lake or even your present apartment. That special place or time that triggers a unique set of emotions in each and every one of us. Home.


Bruno