What is "Home"?
10 years ago I had a friend, who had emigrated from Israel to New Zealand. His wife and himself were in their 40s. They had made the decision to get their two kids and themselves out of the stressful environment where they were living. He spoke about regular explosions, day and night, PTSD for himself and their daughter. Within a year they had taken over a local business and made it a successful deli. One day he complained he was missing "home". As an immigrant myself, I was shocked. I told him to get a grip, to look at me in the eyes, and to tell me that, as a father, the "home" he wanted to give to his children was a place of fear instead of the calm and peaceful life he enjoyed here and now. He started to cry. He had figured out that the best "home" he could find was a place where his family could grow up safe. He had arrived. At long last.
Very recently I was talking to a 23 year old on the move between two colocs, going to a place where she will stay for 8 months before moving again in another part of the country. She wanted to make a single trip for the move in, while the move out had required two trips and the help of mum. She lamented that she couldn't take all the stuff she needed to feel "home" in a single trip.
In the first years I was living in New Zealand, I have often been asked "Where is home?" by curious people who heard my accent(s). I was in my early 30s. My answer was: "Home is here. It is where my family is.". I was referring to my kids and their mother. At that time, as the provider, that was the most important for me.
My provider job is over. I'm no family man anymore. That old answer is not current anymore. What is the new answer?
At nearly 50, I made a 20,000 km move with a backpack, and couch-surfed for a while. I felt home where I arrived. That feeling didn't change.
Eventually I landed in a coloc, and if there had been no bed, I would have happily slept on the floor until I would have found a mattress from a local ebayer or from a shop. The rest of my necessities were in my backpack.
Fast forward until a year ago. Whatever I took on board of my little van has proved enough to be autonomous for a few months on the road, and contribute positively to other people lives.
Since I have this van, whenever I travel, "home" is my van.
So, here is my answer to the question:
Today "home" is where I feel safe and where the rising sun is a promise of peace and love to give and to receive.
In the hindsight, I realise this answer has always been the same for me. It's just that it took me a long time to get the accurate words together.