Where Is Home?

Old cabin
Our cabin in the 1940's -- before Richardsons

Perhaps it’s because of my dad’s decline into Alzheimer’s, but my return to the family cabin is especially powerful this year. It is like all the memories Dad has forgotten were waiting at the threshold of the cabin for someone to enter.

I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl. Today as I came through the door, I breathed in the familiar smells of this place and felt the presence of loved ones who are no longer here — grandparents, great aunts and uncles, my mom.

A movie played in my head — I heard the sound of Mom’s laughter and saw her smile; I felt the pokes of nails I was sorting to help Grandpa Tom with his construction project; I saw myself, early in the morning, running through the freezing cabin to reach the warmth of the kitchen and Dad’s blueberry pancakes.

I am home.
Not the home where I live all year round …
But a place I feel most grounded,
Most connected, most spiritually myself.
A lifetime of my memories
Sits on these shelves,
Vibrates in this air,
Roams around these rooms.
In this place
I am … truly … home.

Reflection:
Where is home for you?

10 thoughts on “Where Is Home?”

  1. “Home”. The very word quiets me. And I find “home” in the most unusual places… mostly, when I’m not looking.

  2. Thanks for sharing this. I wept when I saw this. My mom fell six years ago at the age of 62. She was diagnosed with a TBI and then later the beginnings of dementia. I saw some memory problems before she fell so I wonder if the dementia was there all along. My dad died suddenly 3 years ago after faithfully taking care of her. I wish sometimes that I had a place to go home to…..I’ve just begun grief counseling as I’ve bottled up a lot of feelings when I stepped into the role of caregiver. Thanks again for sharing your home.

  3. For half my life where ever my ma was that was home. Now half my life has been without her and without “home”. I have a place of my own but no family here so sort of feel I am without an earthly home. However, I am blessed with a heavenly home—I just haven’t been there yet.

  4. My husband and a friend of his “renamed” my home town “Sparkle City”. Sometime in the next few years, we will be moving back to that town and to the house my great grandfather built = house of memories and peace. As we spend weekends working on the home and reconnecting with friends, we remember those who have gone to another home – a home of grace and love.

    May you be blessed and kept.

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