Dammit Kevin, you have to make me delve into yet another level of complexity, don’t you.

I’m not exactly sure how I came to the think in this way and am partly guessing as to why. You’re probably right on some level because that would fall in line with out sense of rootlessness. For me, it could also be a Texas/Southern thing or something I picked up from interacting with so many first generation immigrants. Maybe it’s some combination of all three.

“Home” does still signify a familiar place or place of residence in everyday use like when we say, “I’m going home,” or “I left my book at home.” That doesn’t mean that I see it as “my home” meaning “this is where I belong.” I’ve yet to find such a place.

I guess that’s where you get into the realm of “home in the heart” which for me, seems to be based on people rather than place. I feel “at home” with certain people. They accept who I am and understand how I got that way. Not only that, but I am able to do the same.

With some, the dialogue can take on an almost subatomic level that goes beyond the spoken word. Sounds freaky, but it’s great not having to explain or justify every little thing. Some people refer to it as “being on the same page” but I think the metaphor lacks proper depth. Being a scifi junky, I often refer to it as “mind-melding.” lol Anyway, since that feeling of belonging rests with people who are spread all over the place, “home” in that sense becomes even more transient.

As for “back home,” I think the meaning of “home” changes slightly when you add “back.” My 1st generation immigrant friends speak of “back home” when they’re referring to their “home countries” or places of origin. While growing up, I’d often hear references to “back home” meaning some other state. “You know, back home in Oklahoma, we use to…” I guess over time, the “back” in “back home” came to mean “place of origin” more than anything.

By compartmentalizing the meanings, perhaps I’m simply saying, “I live here. It is familiar, but it isn’t where I feel I belong nor is it where I originated.”

Wow, I should just say that from now on and save myself some writing.

Some people say I over-analyze and perhaps I do, but I think it’s important to pick apart our language as adoptees. Isn’t it interesting to note how we are developing our own level of language and culture inside the ones we currently exist. The integration itself is an point of fascination for me, but that’s a whole other topic.

“Family” would probably take volumes to pick apart. Even then, I think it would fall short given how complex it can become. Just like “home,” it can have multiple meanings and sub-levels that can take on a twilight zone-ish feel. I’ve heard some describe it as feeling like trying to navigate two planes of existence simultaneously. I hear this most often from adoptees who have reunited with their original families but even with my limited amount of “history,” I sometimes feel the same way. On one hand, my family and I are very close yet on another we might as well be complete strangers.

There see? You’ve made me write another blog post.

I’ve noticed that the language we tend to use, especially when we’re returning to our birth countries for the first time, alludes to “a return home”. And, we usually fantasize about being “welcomed home” by the native population, “our people”, if you will.

“Home”, to me, signifies a familiar, recognizable place or space. It also can be transient. In some ways, you carry “home” inside of you, no matter where you settle. I think I could feel at “home” in many places.

“Family”, on the other hand, is very complicated to understand or appreciate.

On target. Thanks again. A little Zen?