Home has never felt so good.
And no, these photos are not from home – I did think to take my camera out on Saturday night and capture some Ontario sunsets, mostly from my bro’s back yard.
But here’s the thing about home: it’s a word that has always held a big charge for me. I have not really been able to define, only to feel it. There are times in my life when I have felt so very, very close to the home I have yearned for.
The first time I saw mountains I wept uncontrollably – I knew that they were home – or, at least, as close an approximation as I had experienced to that point in my life (12 years old). There was a majesty and a beauty about them that touched some part deep inside me.
The first time I saw the little village in Switzerland that I keep going back to – that has felt like home to me.
There are times I have felt like I was in a an alien landscape – so far from home that it actually caused me to panic. And those times have been with people rather than places.
Which brings me to more thoughts of home. In my life I have found the feeling I call home as much or more with people than with places. And I have been with very, very few people who felt like home. But when that person has been in my life, I could follow them anywhere and be home.
So, what is home exactly? I have asked myself this question often. The only answer I have so far is that it is a place where my soul fits – it’s a place my soul recognizes. It is a place of infinite peace and deep love. It’s a place of warmest comfort. It’s a place that heals.
That’s the best I can do. For now.