There
are moments when people talk about a house and a home in very
different ways. Most of the time, the terms are fairly interchangeable.
But there are places where a home is elevated a bit. A house can
be neutral, sterile, almost simple as a structure. A home has
a warmth, emotions and a depth that create a type of connection
beyond occupant or owner.
Walls.
Roof. Primary shelter. Whether a house or a home, it’s where we
live. The terms are the same with these points of view.
When
we say home with that extra emphasis, it signifies that we feel
like a part of the details. It adds a sense of belonging that
can’t be measured in the simple values of costs, or with a listing
that includes a fence around the yard or a number of bedrooms.
It’s physical and emotional.
It
may be that there is no simple formula for what separates the
two words into individual ideas. None of us find that value in
the same places. The items that step across that line and separate
the two words are different for you, me, and anyone else. With
no clean definition, there can be no clean formula.
My
parents still live in the house they purchased a few months after
I was born. Since they moved when I was roughly seven or eight
weeks old, it is the only place I have ever known them to occupy.
When I return on visits, that house feels like a home. Five decades
of changing paint and carpeting, moving furniture and reconfiguring
rooms, and memories.
While
some of the features have changed, like the widening of the driveway
and the addition of a seasonal sitting room, I can still remember
the backyard whiffleball games. I can visualize the pool and the
deck and the tree I so often climbed, all of which are no longer
there.
Out
in my yard right now, plants are beginning to appear. In a few
places, hostas will soon be joining the scenery. Those were brought
when we moved from our previous home, and have connections for
me with Terry, our boys, and all four of our dogs. (In fact, some
of them have been thinned since arriving here and replanted at
the boys’ homes as well.)
For
you, it might be a place where your children were born. Or, the
first residence you moved into as a couple. Maybe, after living
in apartment after apartment, you finally had walls you didn’t
need someone else’s permission to paint.
I’ve
had people tell me it felt like home when they needed extra space
for storage and found it. That until then, every place they lived
was temporary and they were never decorating it with anything
more than they needed. Then, almost suddenly, they needed tools
and living room furniture and had boxes of extra stuff in the
basement.
We
might need to sidestep here. I mean, I get it, there’s a chance
you’re actually wondering how often I might be talking to someone
about when house and home mean the same thing as opposed to when
a house went through some bibbidi-bobbidi-boo transformation into
a home. Funny thing is, it comes up a bit more often than you
might expect, and it usually happens in ways that you don’t see
until later.
If
you have kids, you might have considered making pencil marks on
a doorframe (or something similar). Once or twice a year or so,
the child backs up to the wall and the mark is made.
You
decide to build a shed, and a few friends and family members show
up to help out. Some folks are building, some are cooking, and
all are smiling. It’s a great weekend. As the main part of the
project comes to a close, everyone signs their name on a wall
before you paint over it. No one else can see it, but you know
it’s there.
It’s
the dogs falling asleep wherever the sun hits the floor. It’s
the chair in the living room that matches nothing but you would
never get rid of it. It’s the special plaque some friends had
made with the address on it.
People
talk about their kids, help build sheds, walk around napping dogs,
enjoy comfy chairs and add little decorative touches. There’s
meaning behind them, and they happen all the time.
I
can’t tell you what makes the place you live a home. There’s no
mathematical equation that works for everyone. But when it comes
to adding flavor and complexity, color and memories, there are
definite lines that can be crossed.
Take
a look around you right now, and if you don’t see any lines, maybe
it’s time to build a shed.