Recently I traveled to the frigid mid-West to attend a memorial.   When I arrived at the motel my  family had commandeered the sitting room and turned it into an impromptu cocktail party.  (This was done with the blessing of the night concierge.)  Sitting in front of a roaring fire, surrounded by my parents, brothers, sisters-in-law and cousins, it was familiar and comforting even though everyone was thousands of miles away from their homes.

The motel was pleasant and had that Brady Bunch look with an open staircase leading down from the upstairs.  During  breakfast the next morning, many of the guest padded around in slippers and socks, comfortable in their temporary surroundings.

The memorial was held in a lovely old home/mortuary, tastefully furnished with comfy couches and private spaces.  Clearly the intent, even in the face of death, was to provide some sense of comfort and familiarity.  It could have been your grandmother's house.  

At the SEATAC gate for the connecting flight back to Bellingham, I recognized the other travelers waiting there.  Although I didn’t know them personally, they felt familiar.  They were part of my tribe of hardy souls who call Bellingham home.

We usually designate our home as a physical place, an actual structure where we live most of the time.  This physical place is filled with our stuff and, if we are lucky, our life partner and, at my house, dogs.

Something that makes me sad is an empty house.  When I lived in Los Angeles, I moved out of an apartment that I had lived in for eight years.  I was surprised how emotional I became when I did the final walk through before relinquishing the keys.  Though the apartment was empty it was still full of memories.  I could vividly remember people and conversations that had passed through those rooms.

What is home?  Is it the physical building and the stuff it holds? Is it a place? A state of mind?  Is it memories built up over time?   I think a big part of home is a feeling of comfort and security that we might find when we are amongst people that we love.

I hope you find home for the holidays, surrounded by your tribe.  Hug them and cherish them and take comfort that no matter where you are in the world, you carry their love and memories in your heart.