Home

As languages go, English is a hodge-podgy, linguistic hot mess. And yet, one of my very favorite words doesn’t seem to have the nuanced and layered counterpart in the other languages I’ve studied. House, apartment, hut, cottage, condo, boathouse, ADU–none of these really convey the essence of home. Sure home can be any of these or none of these.

I am thankful for the experience of home because for me home is not necessarily a place. I’ve lived in very nice, expensive houses and crappy apartments and different places in between. To me, home isn’t the most expensive house in a nice neighborhood. Home isn’t page 15 of the Pottery Barn catalog imported into a space. Home isn’t the veneer of respectability and wealth. Home isn’t where you are made to feel like a burden, like an expense on the balance sheet, like a ticking clock with a departure date.

Home is welcome. Home is warmth and hospitality. Home is confidence that your presence is valued, respected, honored, and loved. Home is where you matter. Home is where you are safe. Home is where you can be fully yourself with all the variety, nuance, and complexities of being human and not worrying that those will be the reasons to force your ouster.

I am thankful for those who demonstrated home to me as an example to follow–the Schmiedings, the Robersons, the Crawfords, the Astroms, the Lucas family, my great aunt and uncle, the Froeses, and Bryan and Mary most importantly. Because of their love and model of home, I try to continue in that spirit.

Since this prompt coincides with Thanksgiving day, I wish for you the experience of home, no matter where your find yourself.