What's in a home?

When Grace was little and there was a time where we moving around or visiting or camping, being vagabonds of one sort or another, she asked me where we were going to sleep that night. I said, at home. "Where's home tonight?" was her inquiry. "Home is where you put your pillow down". I think I said.

I have been reflecting on the idea of "home". It isn't just where you put your pillow down. My gut response is that home is a safe place, but that isn't true for everyone. Home is about family and friends. That feels a little better.

Is a home the same as a house? What if your home is dirty, uncleanable, sharing a space with rodents, not just in the walls or in the kitchen cupbards, but crawling on your feet? What if your home is on a piece of cardboard in front of a restaurant. What makes a home? What if a home, is clean, carpeted, equipped with gadgets and ammenities, more than can be used, but the sofa is white so no one can sit on it?

Home in many ways is the place we lay our heads at night, but it is also the feeling of family, companionship, maybe it's not always secure, but there is something about feeling safe in a home.

A friend lives in quite a squat of a home, a few stray boards, cardboard, a ripped up tarp, 7 kids and a little fire running on the dirt floor with a pot of rice balanced over top. Her littlest is always sick. She has thought of trying to get out of the city. But she doesn't want to leave her home. It's all she has and she loves it.

Home, here, there, in my dreams, more than a bed, but may be bed-less.

PS I sort of stole that last story from Nicole, a bit of paraphrase maybe, but pretty true.