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My New Home

How I Transformed this House into My Home Sweet Home

 

 my home

 

They say that a house and a home are not exactly one and the same. At first glance, these words bear the same definition. However, if you think about them on a more intimate scale, these two words become worlds apart. True, your house will have that air of familiarity in every nook and cranny. Your everyday activities become routine. So does seeing the faces of your family members. Your presence is etched in every room and your fingerprints decked on every surface. But even in the most familiar setting, you can find yourself traveling to distant worlds. Why is that so? Perhaps, your home no longer feels like one. These situations may even leave you questioning, “Has it ever?”

 

How can two words take on the same meaning and be entirely different at the same time? What exactly is the difference between the two? You can find the answer in so many reference materials, but the truest one lies within yourself. A house offers shelter. It provides most of your physical needs. You can live in hundreds of houses in your lifetime, but there will only be a few that you can consider your home.

 

Building a home is about security, usually emotional. It’s about familial love, and not always familiarity. It’s waking up happy and content, maybe in the warm embrace of a loved one or two.

 

If you asked me a few months back where my home is, my answer would be back there in Texas where I spent most of my childhood. I’d say that in a heartbeat like any homesick person would. More than homesick, I guess you could say I was pining for lost time. Things were a lot different then. Everything was just too simple for me, and I wanted to go back to that simple yet happy time. I wanted to try getting closer to my home again. It took me years to realize that I can turn any house into a home if I only wanted to, for my home is more than just some building.

 

Sulking over missed opportunities and wallowing in the sadness of life is not the way to live. I’ve always been an advocate of hope, and this is how I intend to live the rest of my life.

 

When I finally brought myself to this realization, I felt a hundred times more alive, more awake. I get out of bed, happier, and much more content than ever. I go out, look at my surroundings, breathe in the familiar stench of earth, wet with the recent outpour of rain. I see my house from outside and think that the heart of my home is more than just a building. You can see these sentiments reflected in my book, Poems from the Sand II.

 

I’m now at my home. I have been for a long time now. I’ve sat down and thought about the friends, family that I’ve taken in this very house. With all the new relationships I’ve formed inside these four walls, I find the value of my home to be where connections developed and grew. Even in death, you can have a home. For me, I’d like to think that when the time comes, heaven is my home.

 

What about you? Do you share the same thoughts as mine? Have you ever found yourself in that exact same situation? A crossroads, perhaps? Feel free to write your own experiences with us in the comments section below. My book, Poems from the Sand II, makes for a great company in trying times, so you may want to check it out too. Also, follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

 

 

References

Fawley, Patsie, et.al. 2008. Making life good in the community: When is a house a home? Impact Printing. Victorian Department of Human Services. Accessed August 8, 2017. http://www.dhs.vic.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/605977/When-is-a-house-a-home.pdf.

 

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