Home is Not a Place, But a Moment in Time.

Today I realized that home has never truly been a place but a time. Not walls and rooftops, but moments that evolved, collecting themselves in memory.

We may reside in houses, call them ours, and fill them with the laughter of people we love… But standing ten years ahead and looking back: you’ll see it was never the address, but the energy exchanged, the conversations each night, the smell of familiar kitchens, the way a season felt on your skin that made that time feel “home”.

People talk about homecoming as if you can return, but the truth is, you cannot arrive back in time. Time is only ever now. Once a moment passes through your hands, it lives only in your mind, never again to be tangible.

Eighty years from now, if someone asks you where your home was, you couldn’t take them there. You could only close your eyes and walk them through it, memory by memory, breath by breath.

Because reality is just different times stitched together, held as long as you live, then gone. So I guess the saying is true “home is where the heart is”, all along. It lives only inside you.

Own nothing too tightly, we are here only temporarily, passing through the illusion of time, borrowing what we think we possess.

Consider time a direction, let's say north. Imagine we were all born at true north, standing at that point of origin, pure, unshaped, whole. As we grow, life pulls us slowly southward, mile by mile, memory by memory, drifting further from where we began. Each mile south becomes another chapter, another version of ourselves building and searching for somewhere to belong, another home along the way. Distance is made.

But life has a quiet way of circling back. At some point, after building home after home in time, without even realizing it, you begin to turn back north. It could happen today, or a month from now, or ten years down this winding road. We never really know if we are still drifting further south or if our steps have already turned us back toward the origin.

Perhaps the true journey home is not a place you find on a map, but the gentle returning of your soul back to itself.

Love you,

-B