Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat

What makes a place your home?  The phrase “Home is where you hang your hat,” isn’t something I’ve ever given much thought until now. As I continue to embrace our state of limbo, I’m discovering the literal and figurative truth of this expression.

I was surprised to discover that, at some point since we moved into Libbie and started driving back to our house to pack up our belongings before hitting the road full time, I’ve begun to feel more at home in Libbie. Now, when we arrive at the house to do our packing duties the place feels more like a storage depot than a home to me.

This makes me wonder what makes someplace feel like “home.” If you had asked me a few weeks ago, I think I would have casually responded that it is wherever Glenn and I are together. Or perhaps, I would have said that it’s the dwelling where we have our stuff stored and where we sleep at night.

Today, however, I think it is a more cerebral definition than a physical one. It’s about intent – where you choose to call home.

At its core, the journey Glenn and I are embarking upon is all about intent and living life by design. Instead of just falling into a pattern or choosing the things that society happens to define as how one should choose to live, we’ve decided to shake those trappings loose to see where we land and what we discover about ourselves.

I guess I just didn’t expect to discover something so soon after moving my pillow and my intent.

Tell us what you think

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.