Turning toward Home

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

Which direction do we turn, when we choose to go home? Toward an external dwelling? Or inward? Or both? The construct of “home” evolves over time; its meaning fluid, and unique to each one of us. 

Growing up, “home” was a humble abode along Rural Delivery route #2, (Box 496 to be exact), on a hill in western Pennsylvania. Along that hill lived generations of my family – grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. “Home” meant not only being surrounded by a glut of kin, but also by a combination of northern seasonal changes, the joy of woodland trails, and the ambiance of enclaves like Grandma’s house just down our driveway. It was an amalgam of family history, sights, smells, tastes, holiday traditions, and personalities – all the textures woven seamlessly into a blanket of love. 

When we relocated to Florida, “home” represented both physical and metaphorical heat: sunshine, palm trees, adolescence, and parental health crises. Gone were the recognizable seasonal shifts. A grandmother and an aunt joined us down south but the remaining network of extended family did not. And except for a few winter visits, our customary familial social web disintegrated. New friendships, spouses, and their family units became acquired kin. 

Florida held many advantages for our family at the time, but what was missing was the sense of place that had been cultivated through years of generations residing in the same neck of the woods. Despite its natural beauty, Florida seemed a population of transients, with many folks simply passing through during phases of their lives to find either warmth or a new “utopia,” only to return in later years to their northern familial roots, heartstrings tugging them back.

A job transfer back north helped more clearly define what “home” encompassed for me. The return to four seasons was magical. As dismal as a long cold winter could be, living seasonally resonated deeply with me and, I have to admit, rekindled childhood memories growing up on that idyllic hill in rural Pennsylvania. For the longest time while south, we continued to refer to Pennsylvania as “back home.” Yet, with this particular move, I no longer referred to Pennsylvania as “home.” Wisconsin now provided a lush, wooded happy place, and I was in heaven.

”The Badger State,” as it’s affectionally called, also had generational solidarity with regard to family residency. At first, I dismissed such civic attributes as “a little too much inbreeding” and, in an effort to maintain my independence, stated “distance isn’t a bad thing.” But in truth, I envied my neighbor who knew nearly everyone at the grocery store. I soon realized this sense of belonging wasn’t an invasion of privacy, but a wonderful conduit for love, friendship and support that nurtured everyone. I began to appreciate how deeply I had missed that degree of connectedness, and came to love, respect and cherish the small town we moved to. And my concept of “home” expanded to include the importance of relatedness, biological or not. 

“Home” is also a safe space to reconnect with values and take deep breaths in an otherwise chaotic world.  A comfortable cocoon in which to be our authentic selves, where we can be together, hang our collective hats, nourish our memories, create new ones, be a gathering place of love and support for the important people in our lives, and connect with nature, regardless of zip code. It’s a visceral pull to what completes or nourishes us; for me, both a physical location and a feeling, internal and external.

So, what does “home” mean to you? The reasons will be as unique as you are and might even surprise you if you’ve not contemplated the idea before. I encourage you to do so and, please share in the comments below.

Until next time…