Home

‘Maybe home is in the memories, not the place.’

The most homely sound I know is of the water gurgling down the drain in the garden. It brings back the throbbing of the boiler, the groans of the house, the kitchen light on… everything that tells me I’m at home.
What is home? What does it mean? Maybe home is in the senses; the sounds and the smells; the little peculiarities that make it yours alone…

And that are shared.

The wind outside the front window on a cold, dark winter morning before school; the countless hot chocolates; the heat and the sound of the cooker fan; showers so warm and soothing; my brother studying at 3 in the morning for his exams…

The feeling of safety in my house.

Maybe home is in the memories, not the place. Our memories hold our lives, including the people. In my mind I am most at home.