Home is not limited to four walls and a roof.
It can be a spot in the forest. Our family likes this one, which isn’t much of a jaunt.
It’s in a park known for less than savory happenings, so not as many young families frequent it. But there is a “castle” in the woods, likely built by some boy scouts many years ago. We’ve been coming to this spot for at least three years, and it stays through winter storms and floods in the spring. It’s a little bit of home.
Home is also our farmers market. We’ve made friends with many of the sellers over the last five years. They feel like a second family to us, and when we miss it, we miss more than good produce.
Home is our global cuisine.
We have a favorite Asian food store, which we frequent about three times a month. Our family is a bit of an anomaly to the owner of the shop, as we never come in all together. We always buy injera, because it’s the one place in town that sells it fresh. But we also buy Thai food, Chinese ingredients, Indian ingredients, Hispanic food ingredients, and whatever else we need at the moment.
I’ve been on a mission to create traditions, scents, memories, things that can be transported in our move so that a new country will seem like home. So we buy flowers, not only because flowers are lovely, but because that’s something we’ll have access to in France. We go to the farmers market, not only because of our beliefs and morals about where our money should be spent but because that will be available to us in France. We make efforts to eat a global cuisine, because we love foods with flavor, but also so that our entire family will be comfortable with the food in any given situation.
I’ve been asking the older boys every so often what says “home” to them. Million feels like tea time is home. Creedence thinks of hard candy when he thinks about home. I assured them both that we’d continue to have both of those in France. I’ve told Michael that as long as I have flowers, a forest, a farmers market, a place to buy spices, and my books available, I can be at home anywhere.
What’s home to you? Do you limit your idea of home to your living abode? Or do certain tastes, textures, sights, and sounds mean home to you?