Home. What we all long for. What some of us have. What some of us don’t have.
Home — what does it mean? Does it mean having a house, an apartment a condo? Does it mean having a large cardboard box for the homeless? Yes.
Or does it mean where we grew up, the house at the end (or the beginning) of the street. The house where we lived and laughed, cooked and cleaned, played Parcheesi, slept and sat at the dinner table…does this represent home to you?
For me, it did…for a long time. Now that house is sold, my parents are no longer living, and the four remaining children are all grown up with homes of their own. Very different homes. But homes they are, not just houses.
And what about the folks who have only a tent or huge appliance box as shelter? Do we ever think about them, want to help them? Or do we just walk by them when we see them holding out their hands.
Most of us have never seen these people’s living (if you can call it that) arrangements. No, those places are in a part of town (or under the bridge) that we don’t frequent.
I’ve seen these forlorn places. I’ve talked to the people who live there when I was getting information about the homeless situation in Atlanta. Unfortunately, the article was never published, as the small magazine it was to appear in went out of business.
I love my home today, and it has provided me with a very comfortable place to live and to heal — from my COPD, from lost loves and from the move of my beloved grandson to another city far away. And though I never lived on the street, I almost did — several times. How sad I was then. And how blessed I am today.
I believe in counting my blessings each and every single day of my life. I don’t think about what I don’t have anymore. I only thank God for what I do have. That works for me. Do you do that, too?
Lots of people have a home, but they want a bigger one, a newer one, one with more land or one with less land. People grumble about mowing the lawn, repairing the roof, and washing the dishes or doing the laundry. People complain about a lot of things, but I think the world would be a much better and happier place if people sought ways to help our less fortunate brothers and sisters, spent less money on stuff and took some time off each week instead of working so many hours that they die of heart attacks at a fairly young age.
That’s it for me tonight. How about you? I would really love to hear your comments and thoughts on these things. I hope you’ll click the comment box. Have a blessed day.
7 responses to “Home”
Ellie, You know I designed a beautiful home, my dream home. After my husband died and I had to move, a lot of people have asked me if I miss the house. No, I don’t, it was just a house and without him there it was nothing more than a house. I believe home is where ever your heart is and most of all, where you are needed and comfortable with yourself. Even those people who live in cardboard boxes, although they may wish for better, know that it is their cardboard box and their place to call home at the time.
I always considered home where the heart is or where you hang your hat. As long as the person is comfortable there, that is all that matters.
Ellie, after losing my own home after the implosion of a certain content mill, I am so, so grateful to have my own space, even when the kids outside are screaming at the tops of their lungs – or my skinny neighbor is bouncing around like an elephant upstairs – or she’s screaming at the top of her lungs when she’s, uhm, “otherwise engaged.”
Imperfections, oddities, teeny kitchen and all, it’s my home. Thank you for writing this.
Elle, you stopped at my blog and “liked” one of my reposts. I apprecitate your visit, and hopefully you will find others of my past posts that strike a cord with you. Home to me is where you are tke most comforable and the least afraid. Take care, Bill
Home — where we are loved whether we are understood or not.
what a great article Ellie. Once again you gave us lots of wonderful thoughts to ‘chew on’ and of course your words always make things seem better. Enjoyed this one..
Ellie always love your writing. I agree home is where you feel loved.
Shirley & Art