Home. Each person has a different definition of the word. To me, home is the place where I watch my babies grow up. Its where I share giggles and hugs, and also listen to them bicker. Its where chaotic mornings fly by, interrupted by deafening silence as I watch the school bus pull away. It is where I speak sweetly to fluffy chickens in the mornings, and watch the sun rise from below the Eastern horizon. Home is where I stand in the chilly October darkness, and see warmth glowing through the windows. It is where my Love and I have settled, in hopes of creating a stable, happy place for our children – and their children – to return for holidays, summer visits and when they need to rebuild themselves during tough times. Home is where we enjoy Thanksgiving surprises, Halloween tricks, and Christmas magic. It is where I sometimes forget the roast in the oven while I’m out in the garden in spring, and we eat Kraft Dinner for supper, instead. Its where we make mistakes, and learn from them. Where we love each other even when we are most unlovable. Home is the sacred nest where my family belongs.