When does an empty space turn into that thing called Home?
I once moved into a house I had never seen and did not intend to inhabit very long. Without realizing it, that place became home. It happened so suddenly, and when Home comes- things begin to change. No longer is the space around you simply the space in which you live. The space in which you live becomes loved. It becomes part of you. You care for it as Self; You come to know it, and you accept it faults along with its praises. The chipping paint and cracked floors give voice to memories, and the clock lives at 5:39 forever.
Then came the time when I had to leave that place I called Home. When I left that space and moved my belongings to another location, did Home follow me? Or do pieces of Home stay behind? Perhaps home is less of a stationary object or place, but rather something closer to an idea; an ever-changing cloud of objects, people, ideas, and routines that circle in and out of our daily life.