Home

Being home with a family is a strange feeling indeed.
It makes me feel relieved comfortable and  joyful  but at the same time lonely.

I realize that on daily basis my closests are all far away from me.Being around them, warm and safe in a cocoon is fragile and temporary.
It also makes me think about the definition of a home.
Is it a place where I felt totally secure, accepted, looked after, where there were no dangers, threats or competition or a place where I spent the longest time, or the most developing one, or the one where I finally lost illusions about people?

Well, today I visited the home which formed me to the utmost extent.

I felt as comfy as if I was wearing my real skin.
In the right place.

I think one carries his home with him all his life. 
It's something that will always be missed: the feeling of belonging, acceptance, warmth. Memories, books, music, smells.
On condition it's a good home - the bad one will always be a burden.

Happy I had that journey. It helped me to enliven some areas of my mind which I thought had been lost.