The word home means different things to different people. To some it’s a house, to other’s it’s family and to still others it’s an entire country.
When I think of “home” the first picture that comes to mind is my parents house where I grew up with my sisters. I was not born into this house, but I was so young when we moved there it is the first one that I can remember. This is the house that I can find my way around in even if it is pitch black. This is the house where many of my memories come from.
My next “home” was away at college at Virginia Tech. When I think of this home it isn’t one particular dorm room or house, but the whole community that is there. I made friends while at college that I still have today. I married my husband while in college. I have my first child while in college (that’s another story all together).
Our most recent “home” before the current one was in Lynchburg, VA. This was where our 2nd and 3rd children were born. This is where many of our friends live. This was “home” for 7 years. This was where I received my rose bush.
My Rose Bush
When we first moved into our home in Lynchburg, there was a lovely wild rose bush outside of the side porch. When I say wild, I don’t mean that it grew there wild, I mean that at some point, it had been planted, and then later on, left to it’s own devices. This rose bush was taking over the side porch – to the point that we really couldn’t go out that door. We used the front door so that part didn’t matter, but a lot of the yard was overgrown due to neglect of the previous occupants. So while taming the yard it was determined that the rose bush needed to be trimmed back. I wasn’t part of this conversation, but it doesn’t really matter. I soon discovered this wild rose bush had been pruned back to a very small, very neat looking plant. I had really liked my wild rose bush and I wasn’t really happy. Unfortunately, neither was the rose bush. Despite assurances that it would grow back, the rose bush never did recover. I did – after all we had a nice home, a wonderful family and great kids.
Fast forward a few years – about two years ago for mother’s day, my husband and the kids bought me a rose bush. It is a very nice rose bush and we talked about putting it around next to the side porch where the other rose bush had been. We talked about this over the summer, but it was too hot, we talked about it in the fall and winter, but it was too cold. We talked about it, until we decided that we were moving. At that point, I decided that I didn’t want to plant my rose bush – I wanted to take it with me.
We moved from Virginia to Pennsylvania in August of 2011. It was hot! I didn’t want my poor little rose bush to have to suffer in the moving van so it traveled with the kids and myself to my parents house where we were staying for a month until the house we were buying was ready for us to move into. When the kids and I left my parents house and drove up to PA for the move, the van was quite full so I didn’t take my rose bush at the time. Each trip back to mom and dad’s or to Lynchburg I planned on taking my rose bush, but there was always a reason that I wasn’t able to take it with me. Mom and Dad offered to bring it up with them when they came for Thanksgiving, but we were worried that the cold in PA would be too much of a shock to the plant.
This summer (2012) came around and my rose bush was still at my parents house. Here’s the thing – it wasn’t doing well. After all it was still in a pot and had been for several years. Plus, my dad said that either he was dropping it off, or he was planting it. When Mom and Dad dropped it off I could see that it wasn’t doing well. Things were busy as usual and my rose bush hasn’t been planted yet, but here is the interesting part – It’s doing really well. It is showing new growth and coming back nicely.
Home isn’t just a word – it’s pictures in your head, it’s memories of friends, it’s family surrounding you, it’s a rose bush, it’s about growing where you are and making it a home.