August 31, 2012

Home is generally thought of as the place you go home to after a long day at school or a day at work. You come home to your bed and kitchen and comfort that you call your own. That is home by the dictionary definition. But if you return to your "home" filled with people who judge you and push you and put you down, what is it really but a house? A place to sleep, a place to eat, a place to shower, but that is all it becomes. A structure to provide shelter, but a place where the soul cannot truly relax.

Home is where you are loved, accepted for your faults, and lifted up when you are feeling down. Home is where the people are, the people who love you to the ends of the earth are. Home could be a mansion on the Atlantic or a storage closet in an old building, it doesn't matter. If you are loved there, that is home. If you are happy, if you are loved, you are home.

Sometimes this house doesn't feel like a home. Judgements are passed on a consistent basis. Rules to be loved are enforced and must be strictly followed or the care and interest and love simply disappear. Faults are not accepted and differences of opinion are frowned upon. Independence is hard to come by and true freedom of the soul doesn't exist.

Hoping, as hoping always does, that maybe one day this heart will find a home. Not in a mansion or a fake perfect world, but a home in an imperfect world where love overflows like a river after a storm. Looking for home. Finding home.

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