Home

I’ve written about home before. Maybe you have, too.

Did you describe it as a person?

That’s what most writers describe it.

A long day of work, blistered feet, pen stained fingers, a coffee mark below your 3rd button. You enter the sphere of your “home’s” presence. Their muted perfume, soft footsteps dragging across the floor, faint humming, the mark on your favourite blouse seems to matter less. The pen can be washed out with some warm water and soap. “Home” can kiss and massage your blisters away or at least bandage them, offer you a blanket and watch movies with you to distract you.

Home also hears the jingle of your keys, the smell of vanilla lattes wafts in the air, the clack of heels, fresh groceries that you both will turn into a homely meal. The “C+” in their favourite subject seemed like a one-off, some hard work would fix it, no issues. Missing the last bus, walking home in the rain was a fun adventure, reenacting those sappy romance movies we’ve all watched growing

Is that what you wrote or read?

Perhaps the words were better picked, or simpler with more extricate ideas

But at the core, it’s all the same yada yada ya home is a person.

No its not

Did you describe it as a feeling?

I doubt it, usually, author’s don’t, that’s why I did it; to stand out, to give the story a twist.

About a serial killer who kidnaps and kills people because they’re chasing the high of seeing the fear in their victim’s eye. That’s where they feel at home

I don’t think you want to read about that though, let me write you something warmer.

Lukewarm water and yeast bubbled in the glass bowl, it almost already smells like fresh bread. The oven dings, it’s ready. Her brushed out hair bounces as she dances across, the afternoon sun spills in the kitchen, one spill she won’t have to clean up, gently warming the cold tiles. The pile of dishes in the sink rises as she uses a spoon and then throws it to wash. Oops, she forgot she needs another spoon, gotta use a new one. But she couldn’t care less, this moment feels like home, her senses are heightened, relaxed and engaged.

Warm enough for today?

Is that what you could have written or read?

Perhaps the words can be better picked, or simpler with more extricate ideas

But at the core, it’s all the same yada yada ya home is a feeling.

No its not

Home is a place. It's where you go after a tiring day, grab some food and sleep.

As a concept, we have romanticized the hell out of “home” to an extent where people are continuously wondering if they've found a home yet. Shivering trembling in their room because they are living in a house and not a home. Some may argue that well they should know that there is better out there, while yes you're right.

But what use is hope if all it does is rub salt in the wound.

Is it better to let people live at their best and be pleasantly surprised when they find better, rather than cry themselves to sleep because they haven't found it yet.

I say this again.

Home is just a place, it isn't a person because people are people:it isn't a feeling because feelings are feelings.

I promise you, home is a place.

-p