New House, Old Home

I suspect I am not the first person to point out that a 'house' and a 'home' are not one and the same. In fact, I know I am not. A song by Three Days Grace makes the very same point. [The chorus goes something like..."THIS HOUSE IS NOT A HOME...THIS HOUSE IS NOT A...HOME!...I type it in capitals because he screams those words, leading one to believe that this topic is one that arouses anger in the lead singer -- assuming he wrote the song, of course]. Regardless, I am here, unafraid of walking down a well-worn path. Frost might call it the road oft-taken. But I choose it anyway, because I know this to be true: houses change but homes don't....

A house is square footage and washing machines and balconies and marble and sinks and showers. A house is an address and can be bought and sold and leased and renovated and furnished.

Do I even need to say that a home is much more than all that? We know it is. It is the indescribable and describable alike. It is about the people, the pictures, the moments, the discussions. Since I've moved away from home, returning has taken me to three different houses and one high-rise apartment. And with each flight back, as I walk up a different driveway than when I last left, I have come to know that home, in the most zen of ways, moves but never goes anywhere.

As the title would give away, what I am trying to say is that in my life, the houses have changed, gotten smaller and bigger, been older and newer, but the home has always been constant. The family dinners, the outings, the exercise, the random board games and movies we watch. That hasn't changed even though all of us have. Home doesn't feel any different now than it did five years ago, even though a little person is now part of it. There is still love. Unquestioned, no-need-to-be-spoken love. There is freedom and laughter and joy -- a lot of it courtesy of the little person. There is no yelling or screaming [although Lilly has been known to raise her voice if she's hungry/tired/happy/upset]. It is home as I've always known it. Where Dad loves Mom and Mom loves Dad and we sit around and talk and have long dinners full of jokes and wine and cold beer. Where dreams are encouraged instead of mocked.

I lie on this air mattress in this new address, full from filet and a beer. Tired from chasing Lilly and watching bike races. Listening to Tess snore, and Amelia and Ellie toss and turn a few feet away from me. It is a new house, yet again. One which I don't know well enough to walk around in the darkness, and one where I don't know where the light switches are in the dark. So I just lie on this air mattress, knowing I'm home again.