A place called home

“Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do… but how much love we put in that action.” –  Mother Teresa

I have a relatively big immediate family, fifteen of us now that my side has added a son-in-law into the mix. We get together, as a group, three times a year; July the 4th, Thanksgiving and Christmas. For the most part, each of the fifteen do their very best to make it to my parents home for these three celebrations. With the demands of school and work we have missed one or two of the grand-kids in the past but this July 4th we had everyone together. These are my people, my blood, the soil I dig my roots into. We love and support each other. We weather storms, we consul and we celebrate victories.

The house that my parents live in now is not the home I grew up in, but it is the structure, the space and the place that we gather as a family. My wife and I have our own house, a place we have called home for almost 20 years, but there is something very comforting about having one place where everyone is welcomed, children, spouses, grandchildren, sons-in-laws, a place we can all assemble, a door we all have a key too. Without the people it’s just a building, but when it is filled with voices, filled with laughter and filled with memories new and old, it becomes a place we can all call home.

“Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more.” – Robin Hobb, Fool’s Fate

About ends and beginnings blog

I am a frustrated writer and poet waiting to be discovered. A stand-up philosopher performing on a street corner near you. A Christian with questions but I don’t want to hear your answers. A Buddhist with a bumper sticker on my truck to prove it. A collector of quotes. A grower of lettuce. The Patron Saint of earthworms who name their children after me. A cyclist whose big ass strains the seams of his Lycra bibs. I am American by birth, Southern by the grace of God. My goal in life is to leave an imprint on the lives of the people I love not a footprint on the earth. I am a son, a husband, a father composed of 65%-Oxygen, 18%-Carbon, 10%-Hydrogen, 3%-Nitrogen, 3%-Diet Coke and 1%-Oreo.
This entry was posted in Life, Thoughts, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to A place called home

  1. Piotr says:

    nice one brother, happy to see you with such a firm foundations

    Liked by 1 person

  2. KJ Roe says:

    So, so.true. I am never as happy as when all my family is gathered together, and the “where” doesn’t matter!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So beautifully written, and every bit so true!! Nothing in this world can ever replace family. It makes me sad to think of the folks who never experience this magic. How do some families become so fractured that they miss out on the wonder of it all?? “The soil I dig my roots into” rings true, for no matter where our family members find their individual lives taking them, there are always those roots which anchor us!! Thank you for this post…so good to know others feel these things also. Have a great week…

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s