Today, our assignment was to pick one of six word prompts…..I chose Home.
For some, that small, 4-letter word conjures up images of white picket fences, apple pies cooling on the window sill, children playing on a tire swing in the yard. A ‘Leave It To Beaver’ existence. It’s a nice thought, but not reality. At least not mine.
Thinking back, we never had a permanent residence. We moved around, a lot, never staying in one place long enough to plant roots, forge friendships or feel connected. I was a loner. I hated the fact that we never had a true place to call home, that we lived like vagabonds. I wanted to be ‘normal.’ Little did I know or understand at the time, that I never was or would be ‘normal’…..and truth be told, as I grew up, I came to realize I was not like other kids, that my story was mine and not like anyone else’s, and ‘normal’ was and is highly over-rated!
My home, my true home, was inside of me. It was where I could go to be myself. It was where I felt safe. Of course, as a young child/teen I didn’t appreciate or understand at the time that I always was Home.
My journey, both physical and emotionally, has taken me in many different directions over the years. My physical homes have changed many times, from small homes, to big, log cabins to sleeping on a friends floor. But Home, My Real Home, deep inside, is warm…it’s safe…it’s my haven. Of all the definitions of home: a place of refuge is the one that speaks most to me. No matter where in life I end up, I’m always HOME.
My humble, sad beginnings are part of my story. They are part of my Home. I also grew to realize that there was/is gypsy in my heart, my soul. I am a wanderer, a seeker. Clicking those ruby slippers may have worked for Dorothy, but for me,,,,I’d rather go barefoot!!! My Home travels with me, where ever I go.
So…..for me this little, widely used quote, sums it up……