Home is where the heart is. Sometimes it is a place and sometimes it is people. It is what it was to you as a child and what you make it later in life for yourself and your family.

Home is a place. It is where you go back to for comfort and solace, and to just be you. It can be the outdoors, the land of your ancestors, where the land or the river pulses through your veins, as one with you. It can be land you come to later in life that just reaches into your soul and absorbs all your aches, healing and soothing. It can be just a house, with or without family history. The place' becomes a home when it holds a piece of your heart. Some places we just have to be, they mean nothing to us until we put ourselves into them. We can make the garden our own, and our furnishings and artwork are our choices, these are little things we can do to imprint our essence into our surroundings.

But mostly home is its people. Family, teens, children and friends, coming and going, ever changing. Getting older, new additions babies and in-laws and pets, moving in and moving out. Talking, laughter, movies, music and games. Arguing, teasing, sharing, and doing. Free to be ourselves living within agreed often unspoken boundaries.

Home is safe, must be safe or there is no peace in our life. I know some children live through childhoods that are not safe. And I wonder what is wrong with the adults in their life. There is no excuse. The only monsters kids should know are the ones that go away with the push of a button on their TV set.

So of an evening, make mealtime an occasion. Set the table, put some decoration or flowers, and pour a drink even fruit juice or lemonade but let it be an occasion, fun. Even if it is only once a week, these are the little things that make a home.

Learn more about this author, Lynette Ayre.
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