I wrote this awesome post and then poof – it was gone. I left my desk to do who-knows-what and when I came back I got sidetracked, did some things for work and then tried to get back to it, but like I said – gone. It was about home. I thought about rewriting it, but now I can’t even remember what I wrote, just the premise. And this week I read an amazing post about home. What does it mean to you, where is it, etc etc etc. I convinced myself that what I wrote has been written before anyway, many other people share my thoughts on the topic. It doesn’t matter.
But it does. The topic of “home” matters so much to me. I have come to the conclusion that there is no “one place” that is home. It is many places, and that I am lucky to have so many homes. Who needs just one?
Home for me is scattered: my mother-in-law’s house, my sister’s house, the house I grew up in, where my mom and dad live, even though I never lived there myself, the places where the people I love most are. I know that even though I have never been to Stuttgart Germany, that if I walked into a dear friend’s mom’s house, it would feel like home.
And where I live now? It feels “home-y” enough for now. Heck the 3 people I love most in the world live here, so yes it is my home – for now. (Plus the kitchen is pretty awesome)