Reflection: Is "Home" Actually a Place?

What is this place we call "home?"

Is it actually a physical place, or is it simply a feeling we carry inside ourselves that come out when we are feeling a certain way? Or do we each have our own definitions of "home?"

I'll be the first to admit that I was raised as somewhat of a "global nomad." The first 18 years of my life saw us living in a dozen countries on three continents, due to my father's work.

All the while, Denmark was "home" because it was where we returned, after having lived somewhere else for some (or many) months. And it made sense, since we had Danish passports... and people expect you to be "from" somewhere.

But there was also "home" in each of the places where we lived: France, Kenya, Jamaica, Spain, the UK....

The rather frenetic traveling stopped after I left home.

Even though my life had been shaped by "moving around," I found that I had pretty much zero desire to move, anymore.

I ended up coming to the USA for University, and I ended up settling here.

Perhaps owing to my rather unsettled childhood, I started to seek home. Which is what originally got me to thinking about the meaning of home... and whether there actually is such a place, in the deepest sense of the word.

In spite of having lived in the USA for 40 years now, I — strangely — still think of Denmark as "home." However, when we go back to Denmark on summer holidays, I think of returning to the USA as "going home."

I had a valuable insight into "home," after my mother died, in 2009. I returned to the part of southern Spain where she and my stepdad had retired... and where I often lived, myself, from ages 13 to 19.

As part of looking for some kind of "closure," I went and visited some of the places where I spent so much time — good and bad — as a teenager. It's those "impressionable years," right?

I expected to find... something... there; a feeling, a familiarity, a sense of... home?

But instead, I found... nothing. It finally struck me — standing next to the grove of trees by the golf course where we once lived — that I was the one who had changed, not the place. And in that moment, "home" was actually a very portable and somewhat abstract thing.

All these years later, I realize that "home" is a way I feel, and it happens in many different places, and different situations, and different times. The feeling is stronger in some situations than in others. It is strongest when we are staying at my auntie's old house in Denmark. My auntie is long gone, but the sense of "home" lingers... even though that house was never actually my home.

My auntie's house in Denmark...

But "home" also happens while Mrs. Denmarkguy and I are working in our garden... and that's right here.

So perhaps what "home" really is is a set of memories that evoke a certain feeling of warmth, safety and belonging, even if it is quite fleeting.

That's about as close as I can get to describing it!

Thanks for reading, and have a great remainder of your week!

How about YOU? What do you think "home" is? Is it a place? Is it a way we feel when we are somewhere? Is it a set of memories, associated with feeling a certain way? Do leave a comment — share your experiences — be part of the conversation!

(All text and images by the author, unless otherwise credited. This is ORIGINAL CONTENT, created expressly for this platform — NOT A CROSSPOST!!!)
Created at 20220330 23:25 PDT
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