Some would say that the answer to this question is rather simple. Home is where we're from, who we are. For most of us, it is the residence of the majority of our life. We began at home.
This isn't true for everyone, however. Some of us don't have a home to speak of, a place where we began. It seems to me that our curiosity about who we are and our determination to define ourselves as people leads to our obsession with home.
We all want to understand ourselves, who we're supposed to be. How better to begin defining ourselves than to start with where we began? Home. It's the place that I ran to when I was playing basketball in the neighborhood and skinned my knee. It's the place that I ran from when eight-year-old me decided I wanted to run away to the shed in my backyard. It's the place that taught me values and life lessons; that physically stood around me when I believed those values to be crumbling and the life lessons to be worthless. My family comes from my home and comfort comes from my home. After all, there will never be anything the slightest bit comparable to the feeling of my home on Christmas Eve. (You know the feeling, twinkling tree lights and the soft glow of candles in the window.)
Everyone wants to find their place in the world and home, I think, is the place that we begin to look and return to in a struggle. Whether it is home itself, or the idea of home, the concept is the same. Home is who you are.
I guess that explains my blue collar attitude and the unique black and gold color of my blood...
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