This morning on the radio a therapist said; a house is a place, a home is about emotions. This is a paraphrase. But I wonder why we feel the need to make a distinction. I have some slight expertise, having lived in several places, several homes over the years of adulthood, beginning with sharing an apartment with a roommate I’d only met once before. Was that a home?
I’m in the midst of sorting through my things, boxing some up in preparation for selling this “home” and moving, again. Each time I’ve moved I had good reasons, and each time I settle in I make the place my home. Putting out my books and little portable memories; seashells, photographs of my children, hanging up art I’ve collected or made and also whatever I make [curtains?] or buy [perhaps new wind chimes] that sets that house apart in my memories of all the places I’ve made home.
A great story on the ‘net recently about 2 women in Maryland who have taken their knitting skills into a local prison. If you’ve been here you know I knit. It’s soothing, meditative, and I love it. What a great honor these women are doing the men in their “home” behind bars. Here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bus-52/knitting-behind-bars_b_1528598.html?ref=good-news

And another story of Bus 52; the temporary home for 5 newly graduated young people who are spending 52 weeks touring 48 states and recording incredible stories of good deeds wherever they go. You can visit at http://www.Bus52.com.
Seems to me, wherever we live we are home by the fact that we are there. It’s not necessary that there be curtains on the windows fluttering in a breeze. What there is, is a person with skills and ideals and hope and dreams and that’s a good beginning to a story.
Here’s a Bus 52 stop in Tennessee that I loved;
*Photos; 1) Through our front door, lovely climbing roses, and one of Nato’s designs-the star, and 2) my newest knitting project of bright colors. Yarn; 100% recycled thrift find.

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