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