Home. It's where the heart is.

I had occasion recently to visit some old friends in the small town that my family and I used to live in, and to drive past the house that was our home there for several years.  Over dinner and a glass of wine, we spent hours reminiscing about all the fun times that we'd had in that house.
Built in 1883 by a doctor who was moving from Boston, the place was, as local lore had it, erected as somewhat of a bribe for his wife, who was reluctant to follow him west.  It stood as a massive sentinel on a small hill overlooking Main Street, and when we moved to the community, I was quickly convinced that that house had my name written all over it.
It was 3200 square feet of old hardwood floors, crown molding, heavy paneled doors, original glass windows....and layer upon later of peeling paint and really old wallpaper. The place hadn't been touched, decoratively-speaking, for over 60 years.
Although they've heard it a dozen times before, my friends humored me and listened again as I told about how that big old place, with all of its historic charm and character, had been my 'dream home'.
There were stories about perching atop the kitchen cabinets in the middle of the night, wallpapering during the few hours that my four small children were all quiet, and having a neighborhood party so that we could corral enough strong, willing guys to lug the old cast iron stove up out of the cellar because I wanted it displayed in our dining room.
My friends reminded me about how many hours we'd spent talking and laughing over lunches on the sun porch, while our kids would be running laps around the double staircases or playing hide and seek in the old house's many nooks and crannies.
These stories led to more reminiscences, and soon we were all sharing memories of our childhood homes as well.  One woman told about how the basement in the home of her youth, because it was so huge, had been the designated hangout for all the kids in the neighborhood. She said that when she recently revisited that house and went into the basement, she was amazed that it was really very average in size, to her now-adult eyes.
We also heard memories of a little girl's summer bedroom in her grandmother's farmhouse, with its sturdy oak furniture, a white chenille bedspread and filmy white curtains which blew softly in the summer breezes. 
Another of my friends vividly described the details of her old bedroom from the 1970's, with red and white, candy cane-striped curtains, a red and white eyelet bedspread, and the obligatory white wicker hanging lamp that nearly everyone seemed to have back then.
Mostly, though, she remembers the perfect window seat overlooking her backyard, where she recalls spending many hours curled up with her books. She says that was her very favorite spot in the entire house, and the first place she gravitates to when she goes back home.
So, prompted in part by my visit to our old town, and even more by the past few years of natural disasters when so many people have lost their homes and belongings, I've found myself thinking a lot lately about the very concept of 'home'.
About the massive property losses, so many times we've heard it said, "They're all just things, and they can be replaced, as long as everyone is safe," and that is definitely true. 
But it's also true that so many of those 'things' represent experiences, memories and emotions for us. And those experiences, memories and emotions are what really make a house a home. When those 'things' are taken from us, whether by wind, water, or simply relocation, it's okay to grieve their loss for a little while, and then good for us to commit them to the 'fond memories file' in our brains and move on to the next phase of our lives. 
Critical to every phase of our lives, however, is the feeling of truly having a 'home'.  No matter where you live or how long you've lived there, ask yourself what it is that makes, or could make, your dwelling place a home for you.
Is it a certain look or style that uniquely reflects your personality, and makes you feel good that it projects "This is who I am"? Is it a special spot that beckons you to sit and savor a moment of relaxation? Or, perhaps it's simply a space where you feel comfortable, and can create memories with friends and family.  Whether you find yourself in someplace new, or somewhere that you've lived in for a very long time, give yourself and your family the gift of creating the experience that all of us need and deserve: to open the door, walk in and say to ourselves "Ahhh, I'm home."