Home. What better?
Home is where the heart is..
The English word “home” is from the Old English word hām (not the pig) which actually refers to a village or estate where many “souls” are gathered. It implies there’s a physical dwelling involved, but the main idea is that it’s a gathering of people.
You can have ham at home, but a pigs home is a sty, not a ham. Ohm-hey is PigLatin for home. Dig?
I love a parade, but I love home better. There are 125 words containing the word home, with the largest two containing 15 letters: psychometrician and homeopathically and neither one ain''t got nuttin' to do with home.
Home is where you cry (first). Well, before that, it's where you're made (Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah and they ain't exactly strummin' on the ole banjo.)
Where's your home? Oh, it's 449 Miller. No, no, no, I mean what town?
Home is where we stay mostly still for one-third of our life. Home is yummy, sleep on it.
It could be a bungalow, apartment, house, castle, cottage, villa, multi-family residential, mobile home, igloo, lean-to, yurt, tree house or townhouse, and I'm sure I've missed one or two. (I didn't know either, a yurt is a portable, round tent covered with skins or felt and used as a home.)
Country roads won't necessarily take one home. Sweet home Alabama ain't for everyone. It ain't necessarily the green, green, grass of home, exceptin' for that one anal guy down the street - makes us all look bad. The deer and the antelope may play, but not in Chicago cause the houses there are so close there ain't room for a fat man to walk 'tween 'em.
Home is where you can run around in your skivvies, wear a polka dot top with striped pants, wear socks that don't match, and of course you can take your bra off. In fact, I never wear one.
Some folks live for years, years and years in the same home. Some old farts even live in the home where they grew up. If you're in the military, home is kinda like a game of pong.. over here, over there, to there, and there -you get the drift, they ain't got no roots.
Home is a piece of us. We have an affinity for our home. Our hometown. Some, resemble a quilt in that they've lived in several homes in different places, and they too carry a piece of each home in their heart.
Homework is a pain in the butt when yer a kid - and as an adult it's a necessity. It's also a place of relaxation, reflection, rehabilitation, rest, and lotta other words that start with re.
We wear carpets out, make wood floors creaky, ugly up the painted walls over time - even haveta chop down trees that got too damn big occasionally. Still, a fondness.
Family. One thinks of family when thinking of home. We only grow up once in our lives...well, some of us ain't there yet, but that's ok... kid at heart works.
I like driving past previous homes. Let's see, I lived with that girl there, this one with that one, over here with.. VICTOR! Sorry, it's my life and I'll do what I want (at least until they boot me! Again, we are a piece of every place we've lived.)
We can be homesick. We can be sick at home, or we can be sick of our home, all three can happen.
One of my favorite 'home' stories was from Bill Cosby (hey, I heard it before we knew his real make up - and back then he was funny.) He had the honor of speaking at his daughter's college graduation. Speech, pictures, tears of happiness. They get in their cars to leave. Bill turns right off of the Interstate. Daughter turns right. Bill turns left on Clancy Street. Daughter turns left of Clancy Street. He make a few more turns, notices daughter in the rear view mirror with each and every turn. Finally he pulls over. She pulls in behind him. "Where are you going?" he asks.. "Well I'm going home.".. Bill asks "Is that somewhere near where we live?" It is, can be the day and age of the 30-something sleeping until noon and playing video games until 4 in the morning in his parent's basement.
Flying the coup can be difficult, interesting, yummy, scary - all of the above, or all the words to the left.
We who have a home are blessed and I mean that. I think we've all seen those who don't and it's a really, really sad thing. I'll never forget taking my son to work a few years ago in downtown Kansas City.. it was 20-something degrees.. just before where I let him off there is a parking garage.. on the first level we could see a person asleep on the concrete. One wonders, how, why, what happened, where's family, all. Again, we are blessed.
Why don't you stay-ay-ay, just a little bit longer..
At the birth of the year 2020, the baby slapped the doctor. It's been a year. We are told "STAY HOME." Many react in different ways. I can understand feeling controlled, couped up, stir crazy.
Me? I like home. Of course Barbara, I too would love to return to The Way We Were.- but it just ain't fauciable, er, feasible today.
"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to." Ain't sure who said it, but they're correct - at least for me.
In the midst of a pandemic, home ain't a bad place to be.
I hope where you hang your hat is happy,
Love,Victurd
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