Recently our house was put on the market and it got me to thinking about what truly makes a house a home. Growing up we never lived anywhere really long enough for me to form an emotional attachment to a home. There were homes that we lived in that I liked more than others, but none that I really miss. The house that I live in now is the house that I have lived in the longest. I thought about it and I don’t think I will miss this house either. It got me to thinking is it really the house that we hate leaving or is it actually the memories of that house that cause us to feel emotionally attached to it.
Looking back over my childhood and the many places I lived there are some houses that have better memories than others. But the best memories I have are those that my family and I shared together. There were the family game nights, the house where my dad taught me how to ride a bike, the house with the basketball goal where we would play games together, the house where we always have Easter egg hunts in the backyard, or the first house that my husband and I have lived in together. All these houses have great memories and some that I will never forget.
So for me what makes a house a home is my family. I think as long as I am with my family I will always be at home. That is where I find my happiness and where I feel most at home.