by Margaret Merrill

Created on: April 30, 2008   Last Updated: October 23, 2009

Sadly, a house not always a home. Why, you ask? Because of a lack of love within that house. Sure, it's true that a house is a building that is constructed for each of us to come home to. But without that love to help add cohesivehess to the household, you don't ruloy have a home-you simply have a collection of things inside a building that a few people live in. It's a sad thing to say, but no, a house is not always a home.

According to the Encarta Dictionary a HOUSE is "a building made for people to live in, especially one built for a single family of occupants." What that building is, well, doesn't really matter. It could be an igloo, a teepee, or a tri-level house for that matter. Technically, they all fit the single family of occupants' requirement. But, that's not what makes any of those choices a home. And again, according to the Encarta Dictionary, a HOME is "the place where a person, family, or household lives."

So, what makes a house a home, you ask? First would be people-a family, nuclear or extended, and the relationship it has, living within tthe house itself. I can still drive back to my childhood home in Columbus, Ohio and remember chasing my sisters in the backyard, climbing the huge trees (and falling out of one to break my arm one summer), and even canning green beans and strawberry jam with my mom. And Daddy, arriving home from work, to take us to the local SevenEleven for ICEEs right before the Fourth of July fireworks.

What else makes a house a home? Things, of course. Some people like to fill their house with antiques to make a home-it's their way to respect and love the past and family, too. Other people like to fill their homes with things that they've made-from nature, man-made materials and more. It is the choices of these things that people have chosen to put in the house that they live in a home, because it is something that shows love for the others in their family.

I can distinctly remember walking into the house to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace one bitter cold winter evening, and being covered up with the handmade afghan, then sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Yes, I was doing those actions inside of a house, but I was doing them inside my home, with my family. I was sitting under my own homemade afghan, looking around at, and playing with the knickknacks that my mother prefers to call dust collectors. Knickknacks are simple things that allow you to see into a family's soul, much like a picture, or a painting.

I love

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