A House Is Not a Home

As I spend my final days at home, I begin to be more aware of the things that I love about New York.  This seems to happen to me each time I leave because I guess it gives me lasting memories of the sights of my city that I find integral to its identity that I will remember in my absence from it.  Images of small Mexican ladies selling churros neatly stacked on aluminum foil platters atop fold-out laundry carts or small children eagerly staring out of the windows at the train tracks on the subway as it whizzes by the projects come to mind.

So in light of this pondering, I thought of my construction of the concept of “home.”  Of course, I referred to the Oxford English Dictionary for its definition which is: “the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household:”  

Now, I have several qualms about this.  In dissecting the definition, I had the following concerns:

-A place denotes a kind of physical arena in which a home can exist, though  “home” can be something as simple as an idea, and with this is mind, one cannot live in an idea, so I do not like the appearance of the word “lives,” either.

-Permanency is unclear; it implies unwavering and perpetual constancy which may continue forever, and we all know that nothing lasts forever.  In that sense, permanency is a moot term.

-The idea of family can be misconstrued as well, for what are our definitions of kinship?  Family boundaries change, so what does that mean in terms of “home?”  And we can already tell that I don’t particularly enjoy the term “household” in the definition either because, like I already said, the house is a physical structure, and collectively existing in a space does not necessarily mean it is a home.

As you can see, I am not a fan of this Oxford definition.  I have caught myself on many occasions calling the University of Rochester my home.  I do not live there permanently, nor am I part of a family there.  I can probably go on and on about how any idea of home that you may have will violate this definition in some way unless your only construction of home is one in which you dwell inside a house along with with your kin for all of eternity.

I sought another definition to lessen my anger, so I referred to Merriam-Webster which defines home not only as a place of residence, but also as “a familiar or usual setting” and a “congenial environment.”

Now these definitions I approve.  How I interpret home is an environment, whether that be physical or figurative, where one feels comfort, especially in its familiarity.  Now I shall dissect my own definition in order to explain it in less ostentatious terminology.

A home can be any place in which one can repeatedly find solace.  The feeling of comfort in this place does not denote a physical comfort as much as it is an emotional contentment.  Finding this comfort on a consistent basis makes it a more concrete so that one can return to this same place for the same fulfillment.  I think I’m even losing myself in this explanation, but what I’m trying to say is that it’s probably a lot harder to refute my claim of what a home is than the definition given by the Oxford English Dictionary.

Taking this into consideration, my home is not only this house in the Bronx in which I am currently writing this.  My neighborhood and the Bronx in its entirety is my home.  It is my stomping grounds.  It is mine.  Not only is this house with the red awning and my parents’ well tended plants on the porch my home.  Not only is my room filled with color coded magazine clippings my home.  So is the graffiti on the garage door, the dog shit in abundance on the sidewalk, and the bodega down the street.

Not only is my home the Bronx, but it is also New York City as a whole.  I know the subway system like the back of my hand, I roam the streets like I run them, and I explore with an undeniable curiosity.

Not only is my home New York City, but it is also my community at the University of Rochester where I have made countless friendships which I hope will never end, experienced things which have opened my eyes, and gained knowledge which has altered my world view.

Not only is my home these cities and communities, but it is also the world.  As I circumnavigate this vast-yet-not-so-vast globe, I will acquire a sense of world citizenship  and encounter lands which will no longer be unfamiliar.

And not only is my home these physical entities, but it is also my mind where I think of all of this nonsense and where I am most myself.

So I just babbled on about home, but it really gets me thinking about what this loaded term really means.  We must all reconsider our own definitions of home, as they may be very limiting.  What I can say of these meanderings is that we all need a home and, for our own sake, it is our duty to find what that is.