Home

I started thinking to myself; what is "home" and I thought I'd try to give my answer in this week's blog.
I know I've talked about the tastes and smells of my childhood before, and "home" to me is somewhat like that.

When I think of home I think of the smell of bread fresh out of the oven, it's my mom asking my if I want a warm slice with butter, home is eating that slice of bread while my brothers tease each other.
Home is hot chocolate in the afternoon on a snowy Monday, it's my mom asking about my day and then tell a long and silly story about her day, that typically involve her doing something silly, like the time she dressed up as a ghost and scaring the children in the kindergarten she works in (I am not kidding, this actually happened, my mom is not "a little silly" she's bordering on insane (not really, but you know))
Home to me is a fridge where to bottom drawer is always filled with chocolate, and there's candy hidden all over the house, and under the seats in the car.
It's tea waiting for me when I get up in the morning
Home is an orderly desk, with my computer and current project waiting for me, it's my bed with it's colourful bedsheets, home is the book lying there next to the bed, just waiting to be read.

But when I google "home" the first suggestion google has is "home is where the heart is", which is a saying that always confuse me a bit, because of course me heart is in my chest, that is where it's supposed to be. So is home anywhere I am?
I guess home is anywhere I feel at home, anywhere there's people I can feel at home with. I think most people know the feeling of being at a friend's house where you don't feel at home at all, but I also feel like I can visit some of my friends and feel like I've lived there for years.

I think home is wherever we make it be.