I can’t help but think about my upbringing during this time of year. It’s where I came from. It’s why I’m here. It’s who I am. I carry that around with me. I think all of us do. My siblings and I are separated by distance. And as I watch my sibling’s children follow the same pattern I wonder where they will end up. I wonder where it is that they will call “home.”
I have always had a yearning to find home. My thought of “home” is the place where I grew up. It’s that place where there was always singing and music. It was something that we just did. It was the pattern of our lives. We evolved and expanded, individually and as a family. Inspiration and creativity always knocked on the front door. Sometimes it would come in and stick around for a very long time.
A dear friend gave me a new description of home a few years ago that has really stuck with me. “The truest home that any of us will ever have is the experience of being home within ourselves.” That simple thought had me thinking a little differently about the distance that separates me from those memories of home. Those memories of love, music, creativity and play, are in part, how that new song will find me. It chases me around until I pay attention and do something about it. It’s where it will take shape and wiggle its way into my heart. It’s where my voice comes from. Don’t get me wrong. Nothing beats the real thing when it comes to missing family and getting face-time and hugs from the DeFrange clan. But I think I get what my friend was trying to tell me. Because when a new song comes to visit, I get to go back there again. When I close my eyes and sing, I’m walking through the front door. And without even realizing it I am there. I’ve arrived. I’m inside. I’m home.