The home we remember | The start of it all

My 5-month-old daughter seems to already know what it means to be at home.?

Not long ago, we left for a weekend trip to visit our families. When we arrived, Lauren was wired. She was very aware of the fact that we were in a new place. There were so many new things to look at, which left little time to think about going to bed for the night.?

She was just as happy as could be, smiling and squealing as she turned her head from side to side to see what she was missing. There was just so much to see.

Once she had finally settled down a bit and became a little more used to her new surroundings, she had a hard time staying asleep. If we held her or laid her next to one of us, she would close her eyes. But as soon as we laid her down by herself in the pack-and-play, her eyes popped right open. It was almost like magic.?

After a long fight, Lauren did finally give in and sleep soundly. Once we returned home at the end of the weekend, she began to ease back into her usual routine. I was amazed at how easily she could sense when something was different and how she understood when things were back to normal.

This keen awareness of her surroundings made me wonder how soon it is that we develop a sense of home. I know Lauren will not be able to remember any of what is happening right now when she is older, but I realize that she already has an understanding of home.

It has made me think about my first memories of place and of home. Some of what I remember are just vague pieces of memories, and others are much more vivid and play slowly in my mind.

I remember the dolls I had on my dresser. I remember the yard I played in outside. I remember the color of my bike.

When I try to think about specific surroundings, the details of the walls, the floors and the rooms, I have a hard time remembering. There are parts I can see, but others fade before I have a chance to place them.?

But there are other things I remember clearly as though I lived them over and over again.?

I remember the time my mom surprised me with a mini birthday party in the dining room when it was still dark and before the school bus came. I remember sitting on my dad?s lap in the green recliner when I would visit him during the summers in Texas. In these memories, I feel at home.

I remember the way I felt knowing there were people who loved me. People who I could turn to when I was sad or if I was hurting. I remember feeling at home with them no matter where we were.

That is the home I will never forget.

My entire family taught me about what home really is and what it is not. I learned that home is not about the place or where you are, it is about knowing people are there for you. It is a lesson that I want desperately to teach our daughter. I do not know if we will do as good of a job as our parents did, but I want to try.

On that recent trip to visit family, Lauren helped remind me about what it means to feel at home. She may have been completely aware of the things that surrounded her, but she was calm in our arms. In that moment, I also felt at home.

I often wonder what Lauren?s first memories of home will be. I wonder which parts will stick out in her mind and which will fade away. Maybe she will remember the colors of the walls or the toys in her room. Or maybe none of that will even matter.

As she learns more about the meaning of home, I hope she knows she can come to us for comfort and unconditional love. And one day when she looks back on her memories of home, I hope she sees us.

That is the home I hope she never forgets.

Source: http://candace.yntmedia.com/2011/06/23/the-home-we-remember/

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