What Is It About "Home"?

Yes, we people are funny.

Sometimes funny "hah hah!"

Always funny "odd."

Last night, far past my usual bedtime, Jan and I arrived home from a glorious week in North Carolina where we'd stayed with our son, Aaron, and his wife -- our beloved daughter-in-law -- Soutpatthana. Great company -- indeed, some of our very favorite people in the whole wide world. Their gorgeous home. Warmth. Love. Kindness. And something always appreciated by persons Jan and my age -- their willingly sharing the knowledge and wisdom needed to allow us to (albeit, barely) keep up with life in the modern world.

Now add to all those joys the fact that Sou is a true gourmet cook. That the meals she prepares are always a joy for all the senses. For the eye. For the palette.  And that several of Aaron's interests nicely coincide with my own. His love of movies and home theater. Cool cars too. (His is a Tesla)

Put all that together and you may see where the funny "odd" comes in.  For after being surrounded by all of that I was still, yes, thrilled to get home.

To our home where it's often cold. To our home where everything that needs to be done -- and in an old house like ours that's always a lot -- has to be done by me. Or by Jan.

Yes, and where I -- hardly a gourmet chef -- have to do pretty much all the cooking.

This seems to make no sense. No sense at all.

But actually the "why" of this is simple. For especially as we get older many of us -- even the once adventurous -- start to crave something. And that something is routine. To have a sense of continuity in our lives. To be someplace that is truly our own. Someplace made to our personal liking. Someplace that is to us with our own unique individuality, "just so."

It was that which made me so joyful upon our return home late last night.

Yes, I'd got to bed late. But it was to sleep in my own bed. (And it being such I fell asleep in mere minutes.)

And then this morning, despite having fewer hours sleep than I usually enjoy, it was finding that at exactly 5:30 am, just as usual, with the stars still in the sky, that my eyes popped open. I was ready to "go." I was home. In my own, old, common, routine.  My place. My world.

There was actually no need for me to rush. There were no appointments to be met. No bells ringing. But despite that I almost jumped out of bed, my mind affixed on the espresso machine.

I turned on the machine and its little glowing lamp somehow brought me great comfort and joy.

And then, as the espresso machine warmed up, I went outside, opened up the spa, turned on its jets, and then added the needed chemistry.  Then back in the house I went. -To savor some of that now ready to be drawn 'elixir of life' -- my morning espresso. Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!

Why do I/we find such pleasure in little things?  -Hot coffee made with favorite, just-ground, beans. Watching the sunrise -- especially, for me, from the warmth of the spa.

Those other "little things" too.  Such as my own little routine of setting things up for Jan's breakfast. Putting out a bowl and spoon and her favorite muesli cereal. Placing her favorite coffee cup in the brewer that it should be ready and waiting for her upon awakening. Why is there so much joy in things like these?

Again, the answer is found in two words. Home and routine.

And now -- those simple pleasures done -- to be sitting here in my office, at my computer. Tapping away at the keys. Writing, reading, thinking. Feeling a deep, deep, joy within. The one that comes from being in a favorite place -- my favorite place. Being here in my home in Peterborough.

Yes "home."

There is such magic in that word!

A magic that we make for ourselves. Our own little world. That place like none other.

Home.

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