A house is made of bricks and beams, a home is made of love and dreams.
Home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling- a feeling of comfort and love. It’s that feeling you get when you’re cracking up in class with your friends, or it could be the reason behind the smile on your face during a family dinner. It could even be that sudden rush of bittersweet memories that flood your mind when you look at old pictures of you with your grand-parents.
Everyday, I see all those people out there on the road, the people we call ‘homeless’, and I thank God for giving me the most wonderful life ever. But the truth is, those people may be house-less, but not homeless. They may have richer homes than many of us – homes filled with warmth and affection. The only gold you require to build a home, is there in your heart.
I once read a quote that ran, ‘Home is where I can look and feel ugly, and enjoy it.’ It made no sense to me. Because when you’re surrounded by people who you would love to hate but cannot, they will never let you feel ugly [I know, more like they won’t give you time to feel ugly, or feel anything]. The only time your sibling calls you ugly is when you’re fighting [I wish the same could be said of our friends]; and however often we fight, we don’t mean any of the things we say, do we?
Now that, is the over-dramatic, sentimental description of my home. Here’s a slightly more normal description: To me, home is where people I love are constantly bickering with other people I love [I did say slightly].
My home is where I feel most welcome, and I know that that will never change. Heraclitus was wrong when he said that there is only one constant. There are two. One is change. And the other, is HOME!!!