I have had houses on my mind a lot lately…. all kinds of houses. There are the houses of our youth… the ones we lived in, the ones where you visited grandparents and cousins and friends… the houses that no matter how long it has been since you have seen them when you do, your heart just warms and all the troubles of the day just disappear.
And as we got older those houses became dorm rooms and apartments… and then small houses gave way to bigger houses.. and even bigger houses. Children grew up and moved away… and then moved back… and then moved away again.,, and then, well you get the picture. And life moves at a break neck pace and you hold on as tight as you can, wanting that feeling you had for those earlier houses just for a while.
And then sometimes in our lives we wake one morning wondering how in the heck did we get here and why am I not feeling that way about this house now. I have come to the conclusion it has nothing to do with the house… they are just structures.
I happened to be sitting in a restaurant recently with a group of friends and we were laughing and joking and sharing stories from a some what common past and it hit me… I was experiencing the same feeling I had when I thought about those houses… it was a comfort… a familiarity… a closeness… a warmth… it was home. I have concluded that it really doesn’t matter if I it is one of the 17 different houses I have lived in.. or whether it is a Mexican Restaurant on the narrows the old adage is true.. home truly is where the heart is. Know that my heart is always with you, my friends… and when we are together I know that I am home. I look forward to our next hot cup of coffee or ice cold beer and our endless conversations about.. well.. everything.
Welcome home, my friends!