If It Have A Certain...

Je ne sais quois, shall we say??

I recently recalled a conversation of several years ago a friend and me were having about "going home".

Home.

Hmm... Grandma has a fru-fru by the front door that reads, in part, "Home is having a place to stay".

I disagree-- that's an abode. A dwelling. A habitat. A place. Shelter. Dig?

So...

"Home Is Where The Heart Is"?

Well, um... that's in my chest...and I live a lot in my head. [Yes, I refuse to pluralize it.]

I know, I know-- the metaphysical heart; where the "love" is.

Hmm...

Well, I love my brother; he's home! (Or maybe, Saturday, at the grocery store... je ne sais pas...)
And my mom, and my dad, and my son and sister and girlfriends and that weaterpark place and...

Nope. Too many places to call "home" if it is where the heart, the love, is. And the word HOME to me evokes something... deeper, something perhaps closer to that Nietzscheian abyss...

Home... Well, I also keep recalling that feeling come over me the other night, or technically morning when I was out in the garden-- literally; amongst the just-watered plants, listening to the percolation of it, to the frogs, the owl, the crickets, the wind thru the leaves, gazing the glimmer of stars through the drifting clouds...

But... the garden is just a "place" too, really. Like that abode. The difference, I sense...HOME... is that feeling, the perception you get when you are at the place where you have put your hands to work, with loving intent, repeatedly-- oft until they are cracked, calloused, bleeding, raw, and finally hardened by, blended with, the place--

Hmm... It's still elusive, that "home", but...

I've felt elements of which home will eventually be made. I'm collecting them, like so many pieces of metaphysical building materials, and will someday combine the blood, sweat and tears of the Heart with the feel of the right Place to turn them all free to create and prosper...
Be a lot closer to Elysian than to elusive, I ken...

Slainte, folks.

Cygnus