It’s what they’re all singing about, from Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros to Michael Bublé to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s classic, sweet home of Alabama.
I guess houses have become sort of a metaphor, in my mind, for safe places where dreams can flourish (see my previous article on houses, Stepping Stones & Shells). Funny, since I don’t seem content to stay in any one place. But even wanderlust needs a starting point…And there is such fascinating diversity in what people consider “home.”
To me, home has two meanings:
1.) The place where I know I can return after any day to see my mum, dad and sister.
2.) Any place where you can pause and realize there is no other place you’d rather be in that moment.
The climbing gym has always been such a place for me. The friendly and inspirational people, the whacky stories that ensue, the months of training leading up to one sole moment at a competition. Every time I open the doors to the gym, setting off a waft of distinctive industrial rubber, and see the faces of the staff or my teammates or a new route to climb, I know I’m home.
It’s hard to leave every time.
What places are home to you?–I’d love to hear!