Homes come in all shapes and sizes.
Of course that statement is wrong. It’s houses that come in all shapes and sizes. Home comes in one size – and it fits in your heart.
I’ve lived in my house for about 20 years. It’s comfortable. It’s predictable. I have history here. I could have a future here. But I’m not sure it’s ever been a home.
There was a point in my life, when my house felt like a prison. I was here – and there was nothing here except four walls. I had my things – plenty of them. But I couldn’t escape the thought depicted by Pete Campbell as he looked around his living room while his marriage was crumbling, and asked himself: “What is all this stuff for?”
With you in my future, the home equation gets pretty interesting. Off the cuff I’m thinking any place where we share morning coffee would be home. The house doesn’t matter at all. The house is simply a location for activities. And it’s good to have a place for activities.
When I owned a small airplane, I was frequently asked by others who were curious about airplane ownership: “What sort of airplane should they buy?” The industry had a stock answer: “Identify the activity you want to use an airplane for – and then buy the airplane the does that activity well.” I didn’t realize it when I bought it – but that’s exactly how I chose my airplane.
Choosing a house probably works exactly the same way.
Convention suggests a house becomes a home. So maybe selecting a house amounts to identifying the type of home you want your house to be – and then like an airplane, choose the one that does it well.
But that sidesteps the question – How do you decide about a home? If home is a feeling rather than a place, it can’t be selected. It has to be built. The “bricks” are moments – the moments of experience. I’m thinking that to build a home, you have to first choose the experiences you wish to have.
The experience I want most to have is coffee each morning with you. Any place that happens will be home.