Home

Home: The Place Where I Reside

I thought if he had really been here,

The old man would have stared at me,

presuming he knew all there was to know.

The idea of his wrinkled face and white hair

Could not have made Mr. Webster

Any less real to me.

I held the dictionary close and imagined him

Saying in an aged and crumpled voice:

“A home is defined as a place of residence”.

It was almost as if he only had one explanation.

As if all that a home implied was derived from

His interpretation alone,

and that explanation being a box

Made of something where you slept and ate

And spent time with your people.

So, I stared at the words and I asked myself

All the right questions.

What did ‘home’ mean to me?

Was it only a space where I resided?

A place to hang my hat?

Was this small and beautiful, but empty

Apartment that I declared to be my home,

Really everything that represented my ‘residence’?

I sat beside my window, book in hand

Silently conversing with Mr. Webster.

“If you believe my home is merely the

brick or stone building where I dwell, Sir,

then I must in all honesty tell you

where I actually reside.”

“I live in the memories of my life growing up

And hearing the voices of my family now

When they call. My large group of siblings

Helped form the me that I know.

The struggles and the achievements.

The adventures. Oh, how I lived those adventures.

Singing, reading, learning, growing, changing.

Taking care of animals and small children.

Every memory etches itself in a tapestry

That hangs in the inner halls of my soul.

My sisters are best friends. My brothers, examples.

I listen to my father’s wisdom and the love

My mother offers. I reside in this place and

I call it home.

I live in the faces of my children.

When I look into their eyes, I see everything

That makes me feel alive.

I live in the security and comfort of

Knowing my only son is strong

And amazing and he loves his wife…

Their baby is round and beautiful

And full of promise. I live in the hope

Of their tomorrows. I reside in their dreams.

My daughter, the missionary, the visionary…

Is full of joy and peace and hope.

She is the river I swim in.

She brings clarity and happiness

To this residence of mine.

My youngest, another girl, does it all her

Own way, in her own time. My sailor, my boat

In an angry sea. She is military strong. A

Mountain of solid stone. Stalwart dreams

Moving forward. Focused.

I look around my living quarters

This once filled place with children’s

Laughter now holds the silence

Of their absence.

They are grown, at university,

In the military and married.

But the silence is not lonely.

Just the opposite. The quiet is somehow

An honorable nod, that ‘we did it’!

We made beds and peanut butter sandwiches.

We cooked and cleaned and screamed

And laughed. We tried. We failed.

We tried again. And we won!

We dreamed big dreams, then

bigger ones as they got bigger.

I sent them off one by one, and yet

they still come back at intervals

and we do it all again sometimes.

We fought and loved, and the tiny place I

Sit now by the window feels more like a throne.

This is where I reside.

I live in the seasons of all the career choices

I have ever made.

Taking care of aging strangers

Who slowly…or quickly became like grandparents.

I cared for them while I waited for them to transition,

First because it was the only job I had after my divorce…

And then because I didn’t want them to die without

A hug and a person telling them they were loved.

My children grew attached to each new person.

We lived in those residences…and it was our home.

I later moved across the country and eventually

Found my niche. For many years I have lived in the

security industry working with America’s more problematic

populations. And some of its most elite.

Dwelling among those who sacrificed family

And personal freedom so others can have them.

And I have also dwelt with those whose lives

Taught me to be strong.

Residing for almost 2 years as an officer inside the

County jail, I met the most difficult people of my life

I understood that we all have that one place deep inside

where hope sometimes dies,

And dreams of who we could have been dwindle away.

I learned…and I lived in that home for 12 hours a day until

I decided that is not where I wanted to reside. Yet

That part of my life came along with me…with all the

Valuable lessons I had gained, packed up and

Put on display right next to my heart so I would remember

What freedom felt like and what being a prisoner

Meant to my soul.

My eventual move to a team of people who solved

Problems on a bigger scale built a new

Room in my home. This group is tightly knit,

Hard core and willing to go the distance.

This place offers opportunities that I did not

Know existed. The learning curve is massive

And in this home, out-of-the-box thinking

is encouraged and fostered.

My home houses the hard lessons and the ones

That hurt. It keeps the enemies at bay

And creates more space for my friends.

In this home I will not grow old gracefully.

Now I am working out and doing things

That challenge and stretch me. I face bigger

Obstacles than I have ever previously faced.

I now reside in training for war, for bringing the wrongs

In this world to justice and standing as tall

As I can for what I believe is right.

I reside in patriotic freedom, the American Flag and

EVERYTHING she symbolizes. My home is in the

Ideology that founded this great nation.

My home’s heart center stands vigil for our soldiers

And lights a candle in the dark night for those

Who fight battles on my behalf.

In my heart’s home hang pictures of all my heroes,

Living and dead. I study their lives. I integrate

Their resourcefulness and their ‘love of the game’.

My inner closets are filled with difficult, painful or

beautiful stories I have lived out

On a small scale compared to some,

but absolutely huge compared to what I knew before.

The shelves in the home where I reside are lined with

Books of motivation, and stories of people who

owned their own greatness and

Fought with every breath to make anything possible

For me. I close my eyes.

In my home, I have boxes filled to the brim

with dreams and plans and wisdom and hope.

I reside in a place where I can learn at my own pace,

Where I can create and relish in the talents

I strive to deserve.

I dwell in a spiritual residence, where I can meet the

Great God who created me and gave me life.

I am emboldened to move and stretch my capacity

Beyond my limits, because in this home that I live in,

I am intuitive and sensitive and insightful.

This is the most powerful part of my home.

It gives my breath meaning

And it plays music I have only heard here.

My home includes my community, where neighbors look out for

Each other and friendships are built on trust.

I reside in an environment where

I accept new adventures

And I remember the old ones.

My home is a place of learning, where concepts

Are debated, issues looked at, and new ideas

Are tried.

In my home I work out my frustrations,

I stand on principle, and I sit with patience.

Home is house plants, and slippers by the bed and

Getting to open and close my blinds with the rising

And the setting of the sun.

It is a hot bath and a long prayer, a tired body,

an engaged mind and magical imagination.

It is martial arts and art projects. It is a closet full

Of skinny clothes, I might or might not ever wear.

It is a clean house and a to-do list that just keeps

Getting longer. It is sometimes erasing the list and starting over.

Sometimes my home is having no list at all.

But…

I have found that my home is big enough to

Contain everything I need. It is large

Enough to contain my most frightening moments, and

The most profound insights. This home

Holds every idea I could possibly have

and all my goals and dreams.

It keeps my secrets and is kind to my sorrow.

This place lets me grieve and grow.

It allows me to explore and reach.

It has enough corners for all my wishes

And everyone in my family.

This home is full of footsteps.

It is where I happily wake up

And it is where I gladly return.”

“So, Mr. Webster…

Your dictionary might need another page

to aptly explain that my home actually IS

a place to hang my hat,

It is a residence where I may hang every hat

I have ever owned or will own in the future…

and know that it is still so much more.

These walls are a symbol of all

that house my tears and my joy.

All of my memories and my future adventures.

This place is everything I have ever been,

all that I am now and everything I wish to become.

My soul is smiling

And I believe even you, Mr. Webster

Would like this definition.

This is my home

This is where I reside.”

-Dehlin