home...

Home?What is home?Is it the house that we are born into?In which we grow up,take our first steps,say our first talks and have our first tears or laughs?Is it the place in which our parents and siblings reside?Where our food is cooked for us, and our washing is cleaned and dried,is it where we play and fight with our sisters and brothers and where we can depend and put off our responsibilities and duties on the people who love and care about us?
If yes then why does it stop feeling like our real home the second we move out and away?Why do we grow out of our home the minute we move into our own bedsit, bedroom, flat share or even new apartment,why does the house which we were made to consider our home for years and years , suddenly become like a far away place which we visit from time to time ever now and then. A place which we still love, in which our memories, our past and our stories still reside and yet somehow it doesnt really feel like home anymore.Somehow it becomes our place of memory collections, more like museum in which our past reminices are collected and stored rather than our home.
We travel and grow up and change and learn to create, rent and buy our own places, our homes?So do we call them home?Even though we were used to call our parents house our home, does our own place then replace it?Does it become our home?
Somehow it does, because its a place into which we enter from point zero, a place that wasnt really a part of us even before we were born, it is place where we start fresh, bulid the beginning, and imprint our own personality and integrity,,,somehow what we bulid becomes our home, our lodge, our place to be,,,