11698895_799182386847309_2658753924542795805_nWhat is home?

Home is your dad teaching you how to shoot marbles off a back porch with a slingshot.

Home is coffee with your brother as he tells you stories about adapting to civilian life and med school.

Home is dancing with your husky in front of the door while you try to explain to him dogs don’t live in the house…

only to end with him sitting inside the door, and you somehow on the porch.

Home is walking into a church building where arms and smiles greet you, and the people know your name.

11659233_798422356923312_7084290248284893299_nHome is asking “How are you?” and genuinely wanting to know the answer.

Home is the joy of an older couple who watches everyone in the room wanting to talk to you, only to have you choose to sit and talk with them.

Home is getting eaten by mosquitoes because your dog wants to take the long route home on his walk, and not caring that you’ll itch for the next three days because his joy is your joy.

Home is the way your dad walks beside you, his arm around your shoulders, and knowing that you’re loved.

Home is talking with your sister-in-law about life and work, and knowing that the “in-law” part is irrelevant, because she is simply family.

11057800_799355050163376_4391413679568426477_nHome is hiking up a mountain and staring at the same waterfall you did last year, and knowing it will never get old.

Home is the heartbreak of loss when it strikes so suddenly, and sharing that pain with one another as you move forward.

Home is feeling so very whole when you’re there,

And part empty when you leave.

It feels and looks and sounds like this.

Home reminds you of who you are;

of who you belong to;

of where you come from;

of where you should be going.

My family is my home, and my home cannot be replaced.

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