I can see the leaves outside the windows turning slightly red and orange, soon to be ablaze with the season’s hallmark banner. This time of year always goes straight to my heart. For some reason, it causes me to reflect and look beyond the muddy cowboy boots on the floor and chores that are undone.
This year, it has me thinking deeply about the word “home.” What does it mean to me and to those I love? Maybe it’s a house, an address, or a hometown. Perhaps it is people, the sights, smells, and sounds that tell us we are home.
The familiar warming of the heart, when home is near, seems to be different for everyone.
Feeling at Home :: Birmingham Moms and Grandmothers Share
I had the chance to talk with other local women about what makes “home” for them. Their answers were as unique and varied as we all are, but there is a common thread.
First, Birmingham Mom Collective contributors weighed in…
“For sure smells and tastes remind me of home. The meals that my grandmother and mom made for me, I now make for my family. And those smells remind me of growing up and now remind me of my kids growing up!”
“Home is where my people are. We have moved several times. I always have peace about leaving each house, knowing that home isn’t a place for me. I feel at home whenever I’m with my sweet husband and kids, my parents and grandmother, my sister and her family, or even some of our closest friends. They say home is where the heart is, and those people have my whole heart.”
“I’ve had a home but never a HOME. This is the first real HOME either of us has had. A place we can’t wait to come to, and people in it we can’t wait to see. He works out of town during the week so for him this has been so incredibly special. We’ve created a home blending our two families. For us home is the weekends we spend with all the kids running around. It’s sitting at the kitchen table having long talks & playing games. It’s finding the perfect home in an area where we can start fresh and create our memories. It’s also a person you know that when you walk through the door you don’t have to wear a single mask around. They see you, love you & accept you. It’s knowing your soulmate is there. For us both it’s each other. It’s finding each other after 40 years & knowing that no matter what, the other is our home.”
Next, my own Mom and Granny shared their experiences…
“In my 80 plus years I’ve had quite a few physical homes. What I recall most is the people I associate with each location. The group changes with the years as some leave us, but more show up… it’s a never ending wonder. My people make my home.”
“My home is a connection to my surroundings. Being my true self, good and bad. No fear of judgement from the outside world. Children’s smiling faces, the sound of little feet running, big voices arguing, crying and laughing. The smells of dinner cooking and candles burning. The sound of my husband saying good morning with a warm cup of coffee. It isn’t all happy. In a lifetime, there are also tears. Plenty of pacing when a child is not home on time, or the scare of a phone ring at midnight. Sometimes there are fights, disagreements, and hard times. Regardless of the ups and downs, there is no place on earth like the home. The imperfect home, inside and out.”
My Home
For me, home is hot chocolate by a campfire, my Dad singing “Ghost Riders in the Sky” with my kids on the creaky back porch swing and the taste of flaky biscuits swimming in butter. Then there is Mom’s laughter in the kitchen, and bonding together as we hold hands around a Thanksgiving table full of cherished family recipes. I can’t forget the stifling laughter with my brother, even as adults, in the moments when you really “shouldn’t laugh.” Open doors, warm blankets, hot showers, and late-night talks.
Then there is the feeling of watching my own children come into the living room on a chilly Christmas morning, aglow with wonder and excitement. My husband’s hand squeezes mine when we go through the hard days together. Chatter at breakfast, prayers at bedtime, and singing in the car. Huddled in the crowded church pew together, with friends that are also family. Family movie nights with mint chocolate chip ice cream and pallets on the floor. Hearing horses munch hay in their stalls and smelling the earthy barn smells.
Although all of us have different personal experiences of home, I notice a thread of “home” that weaves its way through all of our lives.
The Thread of “Home”
Home isn’t just a place, just a house, or just people. Home is being known and welcomed by people who see you. It’s the culmination of all the plans and preparation to make those we love smile. Also, it can be the painful moments of saying the hard things that simply have to be said. A feeling of belonging and knowing that your smile, tears, laughter, and frustrations matter to someone.
Home is the joy of the new and old mingled together in a tapestry of the senses. The sights, smells, and sounds blaze a brand of identity into our hearts. Home might not always be pure bliss, but it grounds us in the unsteady moments of life. It is knowing that wherever you go in life, you have somewhere and someone to come back to.
Home is truly where the heart is. 
