For as long as I remember, I’ve always dreamed of home. It was never a particular four walls, in a tree-lined street, or had a white-picket fence, but a feeling of being loved and belonging. I’ve imagined a moment when I walk across a threshold, and no matter what chaos stirred outside, inside I’d find safety, security and serenity. I’d feel a sense of solace and strength, a place to rest, lay down my weapons of warfare, and know I was connected in completeness with another life force. It’s been the greatest dream I’ve ever had, and the influence to many of my life-changing decisions.
I sometimes think it’s unfair that some people have this reality their whole lives, and often are unappreciative. They take advantage, use, or abuse the people who give them that sense, yet enjoy their benefits. I learned early that life is ever unfair. Had I not had the unfair life I’ve led, I doubt I’d love and desire that sense of home the way I do. But, then again, perhaps that would be better, because then I wouldn’t be left with this empty, unwanted feeling all the time.
I used to think this sense of home was a myth, especially after living for so long in what would be deemed the ultimate family dream. Yet, it was all just an illusion. I never felt loved, wanted or accepted. I always yearned still for my home as I did my best to provide such a sense for someone else. I’ve felt it, briefly, in what seems like a blink of an eye, but completely. So, I know it exists. That only makes me want it more.
Someday, someone will say to me “Welcome Home” and I will know dreams do come true.
Till next time,