“Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.”

~ Christian Morganstern

“Home is a name, a word. It is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.”

~ Charles Dickens

“There is a magic in that little world – home. It is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits.”

~ Robert Southey

“Nor need we power or splendour, wide hall or lordly dome; the good, the true the tender, these form the wealth of home.

~ Sarah Hale

“We have to get the baby animals home to their Mommies. Will you help us?”

~ Dora the Explorer


Luau’s laptop is perched across my legs. I slowly scan through old posts, methodically changing names. I’m bleary-eyed; but I’m making progress. I’ve finally crossed the threshold into 2010.

Brooke is snuggled into the crook of my arm watching Dora the Explorer on TV. Dora and her cousin Diego are taking various baby animals home to their mothers.

“Do you see the baby elephant’s Mommy?” Dora asks.

Brooke suddenly stands up and turns to face me.

“Can you ask me where your home is?”

We constantly work to reshape these kinds of interactions. The kind that start with, “Can you ask me ..” or, “Could you say ..”

But I’m tired. I play along.

“Sure, baby. Where is your home?”

She looks dismayed. Something obviously isn’t right.

“No, could you ask me where YOUR home is?”

Brooke’s pronouns were confused for a long, long time. Now it seems that her Mama is confused by the very LACK of confusion. Poor kid. No wonder she gets frustrated.

“Oh, OK, honey. Where is MY home?”

With a flourish, she jumps up and curls her entire little body into my lap. The computer goes tumbling. I reach for it with my one free hand and barely manage to push it onto the coffee table in front of us.

Brooke nuzzles in. Her left hand reaches for the back of my neck and the right settles on my chest, resting on top of my heart. Her head is buried in my shoulder. She is silent.

I’m lost. I feel like I missed a memo.

“Brooke, honey? Where’s my home?”

Very quietly, she answers.

“Right here.”

I rest my head on top of hers.

Dora, Diego and Boots are singing.

“Lo hicimos! We did it!”

And my baby girl is absolutely right.




14 thoughts on “home

  1. that was very nice of her. she is liking you being home…wanted to reinforce: “this, mom, is your place”. little windows into her thinking. it’s always nice when she finds a way of letting you know how much she loves you. and i love that she does it her own way, finds her own forms of expression.

    i like the writing in this post, by the way. you’ve become so good at those little snapshots of a moment, using just the right words to capture what’s going on. you don’t over-write, under-write, it’s perfect. it’s been nice, watching your writing change over time, grow into this style.

  2. I often am amazed that Dad and I will have such similar thoughts to comment on after these many years. I, too, kept thinking of the oh so many beautiful times of holding you in my arms throughout those years–both in good times and bad–but holding you safe and “at home”. Now, when I see you with the girls, I see that you do the same and I think how wonderful it was and how wonderful it is.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s