What home means to me.
By Louise Sukle
Editor & Publisher
Dorothy was right: There’s no place like home.
Most of us spend more time at home than any other place. For better or worse, this deeply personal space has a potent influence over the way we feel about ourselves.
Our basic needs remain no different than 200,000 years ago: Water, shelter, food, security. And most often, comfort and prosperity.
But what is home? Is it your current location? Is it where you grew up?
We can have homes scattered across the globe and still not feel at home because a home isn’t a place; it’s a feeling.
I am privileged to say that for me, my home is a soft place to land. It’s a place where I can be 100% me. If I want to take off my bra, eat Nutella straight from the jar (don’t judge me) or watch Moonstruck for the hundredth time, I can because I’m home - where I can be naked, both literally and emotionally.
When I think about it, my home is sort of like the adult version of a security blanket. It has that same calming effect that stretches back to the days of treehouses and blanket forts.
As an adult, my private place changed...obviously. My husband would rightfully find it creepy if I were to hang out in a treehouse. He’s more likely to find me curled up on the cozy, frayed daybed in our living room.
As I journey through life, dodging the occasional wicked witch, it’s comforting to know that my security blanket awaits with loving arms and a cozy bed, just across the threshold.