To me home is the place where I am most free to be myself. It is the place where I have the greatest sense of belonging and where I can relate most intimately to the people who mean the most to me. It's also the place where I am surrounded by my own special belongings, with which I am familiar, and which are personally meaningful to me. It is the place where I have around me so many things that represent me as an individual - and things I treasure, which hold countless memories of my own history - including innumerable people who have been part of it.
As one of our fridge magnets says, "Home is where you hang your memories". Some of them are hanging on walls, while others "hang" all sorts of places. In our house, one truly never knows where they will find what reminders of bygone years and experiences "hanging around". It might be compared to one of those "search and find" picture books that are so popular with kids these days.
Home can mean so many different things to different people - and there would be a wide variety of definitions. I can remember somebody who led an itinerant lifestyle once telling me she had come to the conclusion that home was wherever she put her things down for a while. This was undoubtedly not the ultimate definition of home for her - or what she would have preferred to be her norm. However, as with so many people, she'd had to adjust her definition of home to fit in with her circumstances. This allowed her to cope and to even find contentment in her lifestyle that had its challenges.
There is, of course, an old saying that home is where the heart is. In that respect it can indeed be anywhere you are for a longer or shorter period of time, so long as you feel a sense of belonging there, and your heart is in that place at that point in your life's journey.
For many of us, there will always be at least two places we regard as home - the place where we are living now and the place where we grew up. I spent most of my formative years in the island state of Tasmania - where I lived with my mother in just two houses during the extensive part of my childhood I can recall.
Our first home that I remember was just a couple of rooms we rented in an old dilapidated "boarding house" that had once been an exclusive girls' school. I was only 3 or 4 when we went to live there. When we moved to our own housing department home I was 9. I didn't leave there till I was 24 and went to another state to do a college course.
Even then it was still home to me. My mother was there and, wherever I went over the following years, I returned often to spend holidays with her. Then when I moved to where I am now, and married at age 30, my husband and I (and in time our little girl too) spent holidays there until my mother passed away five years ago, at which time our son was just a toddler.
In my mind and heart that house will always be my home, even though it has had two owners since then. It's hard to think of other people living there. I am certain nobody will ever love it like my mother did and that it will never hold as many precious memories for anybody else as it does for me.
I remember too, when my husband and I were having our home built back in 1991, we used to come every day to check what was happening. One day we found the painter here and he suggested we invest in a higher grade of paint than what was going to be used for our walls, so that the paintwork would last considerably more years. He was an older man of eastern European origins and I can still picture him sitting on the floor having a tea break and chatting with us about our house. Of course it was obvious enough that it was our first home because it was only relatively small. He said to us reflectively in his thick accent - with a somewhat faraway look in his eyes - "First home, sweet home!"
There was a great depth in those simple words. We have in many ways outgrown this house that has been our home for seventeen years this coming September. We desperately need more space. Our house is cramped and cluttered. However, due to personal circumstances - including finances - we can't consider moving just yet.
Indeed, we tend to think a lot of the time that we would rather extend our home in all possible ways, and maximize the use of our small block of land we already occupy, rather than move to some other place. You see, although this house is small and basic, it is a very special place to us. It is our little piece of Australia. It is where we belong together as a family, where we have experienced so much together - so many joys and so many heartaches, the good times, the bad times, the exciting times, the ordinary times.
We were here when we were just a young married couple with the little golden cocker spaniel I'd had when I was single. We were here when that dearly loved pet passed away and we buried her in our back yard. We were here when two more cocker spaniels - just five month old pups at the time - came to help fill the gap left by the loss of the first of their kind.
We were here when both our mothers were still alive and when my own dear Mum came here on many occasions to spend several weeks at a time with us, just sharing our lives.
We were here through several miscarriages and then when at last I managed to carry a baby to full term. We were here when that precious baby - inflicted with devastating disabilities - was brought home to be loved and cared for with all the passion of our hearts.
We were here when she was joined by a little brother who filled her life (as well as ours) with so much sunshine and joy.
We were here through the painful years in which she so often fought so hard to overcome life-threatening chest-infections. We were here in the many days between when she added so much sweetness and meaning to our lives with her beautiful spirit.
We were here when a week before Christmas 2007 that darling little girl lost her fight to stay with us any longer at just nine years and nine months of age.
Today we live here with all these memories of her and the life we have lived here leading up to, during and since she touched us all so profoundly with her special presence within these humble yet hallowed walls.
Is it any wonder this little house holds so much more significance to us than mere bricks and mortar - and is exceedingly more valuable than it would appear to be to the casual observer - who would just see, at best, a plain, simple little brick veneer bungalow on a cottage-size block of land?
One of our favourite movies of all time is a relatively modern-day Australian classic called "The Castle". This brilliant combination of drama and comedy portrays the way the average Australian family man regards his home as his castle - no matter how plain and ordinary it may be.
As a woman, a wife and a mum, I don't think I see our home so much as our castle - but rather as our haven in the storms of life. No matter how frustrated we may feel at times by how cramped, cluttered and chaotic it has become during the overwhelmingly trying years of the past decade - or how it may appear to anybody else - it is, above all our family's sanctuary.
It is where we come to be together, to nurture our family life and feel comfortable with our own personal identity. It is the place where we share in the most meaningful relationships we have in this world. It's the place where we can shed any masks we may wear into the world to cover the most vulnerable parts of our souls - and where we can feel free to express the essence of ourselves.
Home is not only where the heart is. It is the place where the pulse of the family unit is felt by each individual. Indeed I would even say our home is itself the heart of our family's physical world.