“I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary. I had simply failed to notice how extraordinary it was. Likewise, I never imagined that home might be something I would miss.”

– Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children 

Home is on my brain this week, as we take possession of our new house on Wednesday, exactly one year after having sold our last one.  For a year, we have been living in our motor home, traversing the country and living a rootless life.  It has been magnificent in many ways, and so it surprises me that I am excited to be moving into bricks and sticks once again.

“A home filled with nothing but yourself. It’s heavy, that lightness. It’s crushing, that emptiness.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Tent

I often dream that I am away from home.  It’s been a running theme for as long as can remember, and causes me to question the concept of ‘home’.  What defines home?

My parents moved house frequently; Mother claiming it was better than spring cleaning.  I seemed to have caught the bug, and am always on the move – just ask my kids, and they’ll roll their eyes and moan in response.  Is it the allure of something new, or the quest for the unknowable?  That I can’t answer.

“I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one’s skin, at the extreme corners of one’s eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.”
― Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

What does ‘home’ mean to you?  Are you a wanderer like me, or have you dwelt in the same place for a long time?  Is ‘home’ defined by a single space, or is a feeling not confined to location?

Look forward to your posts!

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