For the first quarter-century of my life, “home” had a very rigid definition. It was the physical location where the majority of my memories took place. The house I grew up in.

Then I became a member of the US military.

“Home” came to have many definitions. It was where I grew up, the place where my parents still live. It was also the house I currently resided in, where I went to sleep on most nights. After a few years, “home” became whatever temporary lodging facility we happened to be staying in during a Permanent Change of Station.

Then I moved to another continent.

While living in Europe, the word “home” now applies on a country-level more than anything else. The United States is now my home…not necessarily a state, city, or even an address. However, after my first visit back “home”, I have realized what it really means:

“Home” is the collection of thoughts, feelings, and memories that make you feel good. Make you feel whole.

Home is where you see yourself in the eyes of an old companion. Luckily, that companion’s perspective always reflects only your best-self.

Me and my favorite guy.

Home is meeting your truest friend, the one who loves you despite what you have become, at your favorite watering hole.

Home is where a dandelion and a fabulous pair of earrings are the only things a girl needs to feel pretty.

Photo credit: Tam’s Pharm & Photo

Home is what you look forward to making your own, after a big day.

Home is the collection of people, whose value is greater than the sum of their individual parts.

Home is staring at two butts (butts you haven’t seen for 20 months) and loving every minute of it.

Home is being at peace, even when the biggest part of your heart is half a world away.

“Home” is not where you lay your head, hang your hat, or even where the Air Force sends you. “Home” is the people you love the most.