The place I call Home ~

Home – Merriam Webster says, Home is one’s place of residence, or a social unit formed by a family living together. It could be a place of origin, but what I like most is “a familiar or usual setting”. Home is a place, where I can identify myself, every object reflects upon me, what I am. The linens, furniture, the food and lights. Some thinkers say by being materialistic, we are possessed by our possessions. For now, let us think we possess our possessions. Each piece of object tells me its own story about how we met and how we blended into each other’s lives over the span of years. Recently, when I bought my new sofa, the old one looked at me with a sad face, ‘are you giving me away?’ My cookware tells me the tale of the discount shop I hunted down looking up Google maps, to save a few bills. My clothes speak volumes of the affection people have for me, when they presented them to me. The tailor who, carefully mended them. The closet in my son’s room, takes me 4 years back into my life, when he was kicking inside me and I was putting away the little mittens I bought for him. Like I said earlier, each object tells me a story and weaves a memory. All these objects kept in a particular fashion, that invites me every evening to this man-made structure of brick and walls, is home.

The second aspect is the people. My son, his smile, his authority over everything in the house and the warmth he has for me. Then my baby, his way of welcoming me home every evening when I get back from a long day at work. All the attempts to draw a circle with bright crayons on the walls. His small feet which cover the house from one end to the other, one step at a time. Every waking moment that we spend together. Their food spills, books, cartoons, clothes, tantrums and much much more. Ever joke that is shared, every meal that is cooked together; the movies watched together; the friends who visit often and integrate into the house as if they were family.
A place that brilliantly accommodates each day of life is home.

Last aspect is ‘freedom’. There is a connecting factor between ‘home’ and ‘freedom’. The freedom to do the things you like, the freedom to say the things you want, the freedom to live without fear. If you cannot do the things you want in your house, then it’s probably not your house and you are a mere visitor. Scream, yell, talk, sing, cry, laugh, laugh out loud are all different ways to emote. If you can emote without fear, you are at home. A place where you can be what you are, is home…

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