Defining Home

Defining Home: Fluid As Mist

J.R. Corday

Home.

Do we yearn for reality, fantasy?

Is it attainable or simply a

Manufactured emotion

Fabricated by Hollywood

And family stories of nostalgia.

All designed to either sell a

Product, or Insure

people perceive the world

And their place in a way

To encourage a connection.

Home, for me as a small child, was different

Than traditional families, but I still felt

Completely wrapped up in a sense

Of place, people, hope, love

and belonging.

I never doubted my place

At this time, in this home.

Watching tv and movies told me

That home was acceptance, warmth

Laughter, understanding, and

Somehow, no matter how bad

The situation, that everything

Would be ok, because you had home.

Years passed and Home shifted

Still promising peace, solace, warmth

Acceptance, joy, love, laughter and

Comfort. Now jealousy, confusion,

Mis-trust, anger, judgement, hatred,

Pain, rejection, loathing, and

Agonizing loneliness

Became the prominence of Home

My initial impression and memory of home

Rooted in my heart, was now fluttering along the edges

Of my world and experiences

Still there, but only appearing

Like a rainbow, after a great deal

Of rain and storms. And then,

Only it’s ever thinning

Mirage it was serving as a cool

Soothing cloth on the burn

Of my heart, only to be taken away

All too quickly and without

Warning or explanation.

Leaving my young heart

Hurt, confused, and angry.

But all the while, my heart

still hoping that if I

Just did as they wanted and

Became who I should and how

I needed in this new and conflicting

Home, then I would once again

Feel how I was made to believe

I should, and how I desperately hoped.

I also knew my young heart

Was not the only heart who had

Ever wished this. I still saw in the

World around me that

every soul, throughout

time yearned for, even in

the simplest, smallest, most

agonizing moments of sheer hope

home has meant something

even in the smallest- minute amount.

and I knew that this meant Home could

not be false, it was real.

If so many yearned for

It and mentioned it, then with

patience and I would have it too.

Yet no one speaks of the times when

The Home as we experience it

And how we had envisioned, and been told

To interpret it, are at odds.

I was angry at the lie of what Home

is expected to be and what it is.

But still hoping for achieving

perfection, all while trying to pretend

the edges of this dream

Are not dissolving into mist;fluid-

moving from the vision we desperately

cling to in order to believe that what

Is yearned for, more than anything else

Is in fact reality.

Realization of the fallacy of this

Perfectly promoted ‘Home’

When world crashed and

There was no home.

It still existed physically, the same places,

People, and gatherings, but I was

No longer included.

But that day the home I yearned for

And believed in so much as the

Ideal goal, hadn't prepared me

For anything I was experiencing.

And when I reached out to home

I was told -no- you are not important.

This from my home that had always said

That no matter what happened in life,

we are here, you can count on us.

Except when it actually counts or requires action.

My traditional, guided, expected concept of home

That had already been struggling with hopes

and reality on a slow journey of death,

Imploded, decisively. Home what had

Been essential to existence,

had never even existed in the way

I believed it did.

I thought I had lost my place,

Sense of self and belonging in the entire world.

I felt adrift, floating in the world, because without

Home, where do you go? Who can you count on?

Who has your back?

Who can help you through this, now that there

Is no laughter, love, acceptance, encouragement,

even the smallest touch of comfort.

But I forgot one crucial aspect of what I was missing in terms

Of what home was and how that impacted me.

I had forgotten my sense of place and belonging in a home .

So long my sense so self for a Home had been wrapped

Up in this ideal of what it was supposed to be based on movies

Books, and the pictures and stories around me.

Everything I saw and heard, so drastically

Different from my home.

Yet still contained enough similarities to

Justify acceptance.

And for so long I had based my view on my value on my home.

I translated this into the world

Determining how I allowed others to treat me

Based on expectations and ideals that permeated

How Home told me I was valued, not on what I decided.

Determined by others so I could fit in their ideal

Version of Home and not mine.

Home had me base my sense of self and belief in how

Others wanted me to fit in their ‘ideal’ of home.

Only recently once my place at Home stopped

I realized I did the same with my ideal of home.

Based on the information and influences,

I had created this ideal of what home was and should

Be and how that defined me.

But isn't that what Home or the idea

Of home actually is- where we give ourselves

Permission to feel included, are part of

Something greater than themselves or

And so needed and important to the very

Fabric of the lives of those we love most.

Home in reality has never been a constant ideal,

It has always only existed in perfection in short

Bursts of time snapshots and moments

That we then base so many expectations on.

The easy joyful times we assume

should encompass every aspect of our life, daily

Then we judge and base every future

Moment and feeling and perceptions on this ideal.

Home is not one of those things

That is static. We change

Our perceptions of life and the world

Yet we hang on desperately

To a single fixed point in our past existence

Or the few - close- to ‘ideal’ experiences

We have with our families and loved ones

That equates ‘home’.

This clinging on to a memory,

Feeling, perceptions of what was,

And trying to base life, emotions, well being on

That is flawed.

To me, home had been more of an illusion

Filled with longing, hope, but has never

Measured up to what I was told to

expect

All areas of our lives tell what home is,

While every moment our reality

Confirms, compromises, with or

Rejects the ‘ideal’ we are presented with.

I have found that home actually exists

In fragments of perfect or greatly

Needed moments throughout

Our daily experiences throughout

Our lives. These moments are

Rooted in conversations or experiences

With friends, strangers. They are not

Stuck in a single idea or view.

You can experience many ideals of

Home as you walk down the street.

You walk by a store window and see

something you quirky you secretly love

but were self conscious to buy till now.

Or the perfume of someone in a store

Reminds you of a loved one.

Home, is in many ways both the illusion we

Desperately cling to, a complete lie, and also

The hope that keeps us going.

When I think of Home, I am trying to focus

More on what is best for me, and where and

How am I honoring myself, while also realizing

That people's roles or part in the

Home I am creating for myself, cannot just be on

The terms I have for my ‘ideal’ home.

Home is not about only what one person wants and needs

It is about helping others, being there for them.

Not in the way of intertwining lives and forcing a Home

But maybe in sharing what home means to us as individuals

In small and even massive ways.

Smile at the person on the bus, maybe

You have the same type of dimples of a sister

Or friends they haven't talked to in years.

Be the safe place a friend can come to when

They are struggling, and just listen.

Our ideals of Home can be what we want

For ourselves, as well as what we can share

Of what we hope for ourselves with others.

I cannot make my home my ideal at someone else's expense

But if certain parts of Home are important to me,

Maybe I can share that with others, through smiles,

Laughter, acceptance, and hope.

So that maybe I can help their vision of home

Happen in a small moment in their day.

Home is realizing that we all have had

Good and bad experiences and expectations

Of Home and some of us are just trying to

Figure out what Home means without the

Traditional family ties. And that is ok.

Home is not stagnant, it teaches us who we are

But we need to remember it does not define us.

The Homes we create in our daily world are the ones

That are authentic.

They are not static, they are not fixed. Home is simply

Our attempt so show the world how we exist

And encourage everyone to connect, because

Home is not traditional, and without connection and

Interaction with strangers, we may never have the

Opportunity to smell the same type of perfume our

Grandma used to wear, and suddenly you remember something

Special, for the first time in twenty years.

All because in someone's Home they liked a perfume

And in your Home, it connected you with family, even in memory.