What is the meaning of *home*?
*Home* means different things to different people. To some, it is simply where you live, your place of residence. To others, any physical structure in which one resides is home, whether it be a house or an apartment. And, still to others, a home is a place where you dwell with your family as a household. Finally, home to some is a place of security and happiness.
I am sure there are more than just these interpretations of the meaning of *home*. It is as individual a definition as you can get…to each their own so to say. But, to me, *home* is something that I once had, and thought I had lost, to never be found again.
When I was forced to move from the residence that I shared with my parents, upon the death of my father, I felt like I was without a *home*. I was adrift in a sea of loss and sadness, and at the tender age of 43, having to finally grow up. I was an only child, so I had no siblings for support or confidence. Even as I was at the viewing of my father, the one thing that ran through my mind the whole time was *where am I going to live? how will I support myself and my furry-babies?* To some, this may seem wrong, but when a loved one is lost, especially a parent, I feel that most have these type of thoughts, if not the very ones that I had.
My dear cousin, Christina, seeing my anguish at my fathers viewing, told me not to worry. I would come to work for her, and she would make sure that I had family no matter what. She told me that I was too important to her, to see me that way, so she would keep me close to her. So, after my fathers funeral, I went to work for Chris. She is a wonderful, acclaimed author out of New York, and she was a blessing, whether she knows it or not. Had it not been for her support those first few months, I would have surely been lost forever. She was my angel 
But, as hard as I tried over those months to make living near her feel like *home*, I couldn’t. What started out as a grand idea, ended in pain, depression, lost love, and finding myself once again where I started…not knowing what would become of me.
I had quit my job with my cousin, so that she could get on with her life, and her new relationship. She wanted to move, quite a distance away, and I felt that, at that time, I was not ready. And, I felt that I was always getting in the way, so I took the initiative to leave. She saw this as me abandoning her, and for that I will always be sorry. But, it was what was needed on both sides, and I hope, in time she can come to see this. She once told me that in that time, in that place, I made her miserable. That she didn’t really want me around her because of that. At first this hurt, but then I realized it made sense. I was lost, adrift, without a feeling of home, and was miserable myself, so why wouldn’t those around me be miserable as well?
It was at this time that my mom’s family offered me a place to live, until I could figure out what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go. My Uncle Keni, and his wife Mary, had a little house out behind their home, that had once been used by their youngest daughter when she had first married. It had set empty, but well taken care of, for many a years, and my Aunt Mary offered it to me. Now, being honest, I never thought it would be anything permanent. I thought that it would work for the time being, until I decided what would come next. Little did I know, that in taking their offer, I would find a place that me and my little furry babies could maybe, one day, call *home*. It is the sweetest, most perfect little house. It has four rooms, and is just the right size for the three of us.
When we first moved here, we were all three slightly traumatized. We had been shuffling around, since losing my father, and because of certain events that transpired during our stay with my cousin Chris, had a little bit of a security issue. I can honestly say that it took all three of us pert near a year to get straightened out enough to actually take a breath, and relax. I am not claiming it has been all hearts and flowers…not by a long shot. Since moving here in Sept 2008 *on the same day that my personal business that had been built up and ran by me, my father, and my mother since 1992 burned down* I have had six different employers. SIX!!! In only two years!!!! Even I, knowing my circumstances, find that a bit much!! LOL!! But, I am thankful for each and every one of those jobs. One thing I did promise myself, upon moving here, was that I would not allow myself to make anyone else miserable, or be a burden of any kind upon my family. If I learned anything from my time with Chris, is that having it to do all over again, I would have left much earlier to prevent her this misery.
So, here we are…me, Rooh, and Booh. We answer only to each other, and we live in a tiny little house, just down the hill from where my mother and father are buried. My Uncle Keni and Aunt Mary live in the house in front of me, my cousin Kelli and her family live down the holler from me, and my Aunt Monica and Uncle Lucian live up the holler. The holler in which I am now residing is the same holler my dear mother grew up in, and had hoped one day to return to upon retirement. Little did she know, she would return to it much sooner than expected, and to be buried there not to reside there. But, it gives me a kind of peace to know that she and daddy are just a short walk away.
My babies and I still really do not refer to the little house as *home* much yet, but I feel we are getting there. I guess, for us, *home* is a place of security, happiness, and comfort. And if that is the case, then I am *home*. I could not feel more secure, or comforted. The happiness you ask? Well, I am not sure that happiness, like I once had, will ever be part of my life again. But, in this time, in this place, I will take what I can get…and anywhere I am, with my little furry-babies, to me, will be *home*.
So, what is your definition of *home*?
