THE TRUE MEANING OF ‘HOME’

Nothing stays the same. The only thing constant is change. We want things to remain as they are, especially if they are good and worthwhile. But Seasons pass and Age comes upon us, creeping slowly while we avoid its recognition, only to wake up to a new reality as though it happened overnight.

Today, my wife and I closed on the sale of our house, the place that was our home for 25 years. Over 40% of my life was spent in this Victorian home built in 1903. I came to relish the decorous nature of such a dwelling. I learned to be a homeowner, sufficiently capable of maintaining the place to a degree of comfort and functionality.

There are photos of events, gatherings, dinners, the various Christmas trees my wife decorated all over the house throughout the years. There was outdoor space throughout the backyard. We shopped for antiques to enhance the atmosphere, yet kept up with the modern technology as best we could.

Today, 25 years of actual living become a memory. There is no more residing in THAT house. We’ve moved to a new one and hope to have 25 years here. But there is no need for tears because, as we know, nothing stays the same.

Movement is the key to life. Physical, mental, intellectual, emotional. Certainly, there is a need to recline, to rest, to recompose. But there is also a need to move forward because stagnation can only lead to decay. While I appreciated the time spent in that abode, I know it is time to move on.

I suppose the only real home is anywhere I live with my wife. When I met her in Boston 28 years ago and she told me right out she was moving back to Wichita, there could be no uncertainty in my declaration of feelings for her. Letting her go was tantamount to placing me in a mental institution. I knew then where my home was.

It is still there.