Home
Just spent a couple weeks at my parents place. Its quite an experience staying at the house I mostly grew up in—a place called home for so many years, an old cottage on Lake Ontario—while being away from my current home—a place I had lived in for days before leaving it again, a reno’d bungalow in the city. And this after a series of dwellings since January (that never quite felt like home) in a city that I haven’t lived even a year yet.
“Home” has felt like an abstract concept most of my life, especially as of late. I think those of us who moved away from home for post-secondary education and who travel lots experience this at one time or another.
To me, a house in itself is not a home. And so, I’ve often considered the people in my life my home. So when I return back to Ontario without Dan, I’m not going home, I’m going back to the place that I’m from.
So if Dan (and now baby girl) are my home, my parents, siblings and niblings (nieces and nephews) are my home away from home. I don’t know what I would do without each and every one of them.