The smell of coffee, the feeling of fragmented wind blowing through the window, the colours, the laughter echoing off walls, the Coronation Street* theme music, teacups that are littered all around the house, the books that are literally scattered everywhere you look, the obnoxious laughing and talking and yelling from the other side of the fence.
That's what home feels like to me. What people say home is, is different to everybody. It's subjective. There's that famous saying that 'home is where the heart is'. And in many respects, that's true. But truly, I believe that home is where the memories are. And whom and what you love is very closely intertwined with what you remember. I say this because twenty years into the future, you may not necessarily remember who it is you loved, nor why you loved them, but you know you had happy times with them, and you remember everything that happened as if it only happened a mere day before.
I guess what I'm really trying to say is that home isn't necessarily where you live, and isn't necessarily where your heart is or where the people you love are. It's where your memories are happiest, and in turn where you feel you are most accepted. Yes, that may make you associate home with people, but it'll also make you associate home with objects like coffee strainers, or books, or pieces of music.
Home is like a safe place, a place where you can truly be yourself. A place where you can complain to the wind, where you can yell at the TV when a character on a TV show is doing wrong by you. It's a feeling of completeness that home makes you feel. That's why it's so important to have one, otherwise emptiness will invade your mind, and you'll feel lost. You'll feel out of it, perhaps lose your grip on reality. Home is important.
BOOK CURRENTLY READING: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
WORDS WRITTEN THIS MONTH: 3,162 (this is probably why I'd fail NaNoWriMo)
*Coronation Street is an English soap opera that the mother is obsessed with