What makes a house a home? What makes us grow so fond of our homes over the years? Why are we so attached to where we live?

We shape our dwellings, and afterwards our dwellings shape us- Winston Churchill

Do you ever wonder why we crave for the space where we live, no matter how humble this may be?

‘It takes a heap of living to make a house a home’ sums it up nicely. Home grows on you and the more time passes, the more you enjoy the beauty and comfort ofyour home.

As I open the front door to my house after a hard day’s work I always feel I’m about to walk into my own little den of do-as-you-please.

A sense of relief instantly takes over as I hang my keys and make my way merrily to the kitchen, my favourite room.

At this time, it’s usually cluttered with piles of school books belonging to my children who are finishing off their homeworks and other duties.

But the mess isn’t really a nuisance and ruins nothing, because I’ll be magically winding down. Everything seems to fall into place and take its natural course until it’s time to leave home once again the next day.

Very often we look at our home beyond a mere roof over our heads; for most of us it is a place of refuge, where we feel we can safely shelter ourselves from the occasional storm; home is our personal territory, a safe and comfortable place.

Everything sorts itself out at home, no matter what. This is why it is more of a psychological than physical haven. Home is a treasure trove of emotional experiences. So many chapters of our life - both good and bad – were shaped and evolved at home.

This is why we all remain so attached to the place where we were brought up... so many childhood memories, so many sad and funny stories that moulded us into what we are today. All these remembrances hark back to that ‘special house’ where we spent our childhood years.

Whether you’re tangled up in your thoughts, having an argument with your better half, sorting out problems or simply having a well-deserved rest with nothing on your mind, home is the place to be.

My grandmother’s words ring in my ears: “Sort whatever needs sorting at home. It’sa good thing the walls at home do not grow ears.”


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