Home

Some days, coming up with an idea is the hardest part of writing a blog post. And today was one of those days. 

So, I did what everyone does when they are stuck. I turned to Google.

Coming up with lists of suggestions for blog posts ideas was not a problem. Coming up with a suggestion that resonated was a different story.

Finally, though, one idea ignited a spark: what does home mean to you?

I started thinking of all the places I've called home, or that have felt like it, even if only for a time. My house of course, where I've lived for the past 28 years. The houses I lived in growing up. New Jersey itself. The condo community we stay in at the beach. The various dorm rooms and apartments I lived in during college and grad school. 

And then, since Billy Joel is my favorite artist (even though he's not from New Jersey), "You're My Home" (one of my favorite songs of his) started running through my mind, and so I had to go on YouTube and listen to it. 

But I digress.

Home is where I'm comfortable. Somewhere I can just be. Home is a place that not only reflects my identity, but becomes a part of it (I'm talkin' to you, New Jersey!)

Home is familiar. A soft landing place. A feeling.

Home is populated by some of my favorite people, but it's also a place where I can happily be alone. It has my favorite things, in the places where they belong (mostly). And when I travel, if I take those people or things with me, the place where I am headed can feel like home for a time, too. 

Home is memories. It's a dynamic space whose changes reflect our own, often in ways that are small enough to be almost unnoticeable. Home can be love, but it can also be the last place we want to be when love is no longer there. 

Home, the subject of songs, literature and even the plaques and decor we use to turn a house into a home, has both one meaning and many. It's one thing when we are small, another when we're teens, and something else when we are grown. 

What does home mean to you?