Thursday, October 27, 2016


Last night my 24 year old pulled into the driveway and announced he was staying the night.  It seems his roommate had family company at the house and he offered his bedroom to them.  When asked where he would spend the night, he told them he was going home.  Because although they have homes of their own, the boys still consider home to be where ever mom and dad are. That got me thinking about what is home to me. 

For me, home is a house with green awnings in Dearborn, MI where I grew up with my mom, dad and sister.  In my mind, I can see the days in that place.  The dining room where we ate dinner every night without the tv on.  The kitchen my mom complained was too small for her to cook in.  The stairs where my sister and I would sit quietly and listen to tv when we should have been in bed.  The bedroom we shared (which was okay when we were little but a war zone when we became teens).  Holidays celebrated with family and friends.  First dates with nervous boys meeting dad and sadness when we had to move.

Home then became a house in Marquette, MI where I lived for a short time before getting married and moving away.   But home was still there with my mom and dad. Once a week, I found myself back there whether it to do laundry while visiting with mom or having supper.  It was holiday celebrations or helping when dad got sick.  It was living at home for a short time while waiting for the birth of my first son and then my second.

Home changed after my dad died.  Home became Appleton, WI and Las Vegas, NV and Surprise, AZ and Minneapolis, MN and finally Seminole, FL.  All these places were home because that was where my mom was.  Mom is gone now but I like to think she went home to be with dad.  Is my home gone now?  No, it is still with my mom and dad and someday when it is my time to go, I believe that I will go home too.  I will find myself sitting on the front porch of that house in Dearborn, MI and my dad will come to the front door and say, "Ellen, it's time to come's time to come home."


  1. Anywhere my parents are is not a home for me and never has been. But it was beautiful to read your gentle post. It was like a heartwarming story being told to the accompaniment of shy breezes and happy sunshine. I hope that as a parent I will be able to offer my kids the same definition and anchoring comfort of home - that it is where they will always, always, find love waiting for them.


    1. It does not matter how you define where home is, just being there for your children with love, support and comfort is the greatest gift you can give them and yourself.