Home is people

'Home is people. Not a place.' This quote by American writer of speculative fiction, who goes by her pen name Robin Hobb, is as beautiful as it is profound, and today I feel like perching my thoughts around it and giving it my own little spin.

Maybe we have got to view life three dimensionally to expand the scope of what we understand as home. To me, such people take you in their warm embrace. Around them you feel safe being vulnerable, in their presence you can be a little more you. They are the walls that will never let you crumble, the roofs that will gather your tears and the doors that will not shut on you. Your cheerleaders for all seasons, they give you the best high fives when life's on a roll and pull you out and dust you down when you tumble down that rabbit hole. 

Such are also the souls who know the art of silent love, the kind of tenderness that shows in action more than in vacuous words. No wonder then that even today we smell home in grandma's kitchen, sniff nostalgia in mom's knitted stole and dig into fading albums for a scoop of heaven. It's also the father's little bursts of anger that often come layered in love or the kindergarten teacher's words that have remained etched in our hearts. 

To me home is that dear friend who remembers my toughest day and lights up as a message on my screen saying, 'You are in my thoughts today'.  How beautiful it is that people can make you feel at home, what else otherwise are all our dwellings but edifices made of beams and stones.