A House is Not a Home
I know quite a lot of people to whom their home is everything. For a start, in selecting a home, they insist the property should represent everything they stand for. The more expensive the better, even if in some cases it may be far beyond their budget.
Home making today has become a competitive game in one upmanship. The constant moving, with the focus on the social ladder, or the ever so important improvements, to make the property that more attractive, has become standard practice everywhere. The home seems no longer a focus for the family, but a grand investment in the real estate bubble.
Yet, there are many who would insist the house is still the main focus of family life. But I don't accept this, or to put it bluntly, this is not what I see being practised. What I see more and more today, is the house is used as a staging ground for all our activities, business, leisure or otherwise. Of course, it is still probably the place where we spend a great deal of our time. But very often it vies with other places for our affection.
For me the house is not always the home. Even when I am there, I sometimes I wish that I could be somewhere else. That is primarily because I associate the house with the rituals of domesticity. And I dislike the domestic routine. And that is why I question the over zealous liking for the building. When I chose to go away, and that is quite often, wherever I go I consider it home. While I am there, I celebrate the new existence, as if it is mine.
Home for me is not the building. Home is where the heart lies.
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