家是什么？蔽雨的屋檐？遮風的四壁？還是御寒的地板？是的，這些都是家的一部分，但是這還遠遠構不成家。家里還要有嬰兒的笑聲、媽媽的歌聲、爸爸的力量、愛的溫暖、幸福的眼神、善意、忠誠和同志之誼。
家是孩子們的第一所學校，在那兒他們知道了什么是對，什么是好，什么是善。當他們受到傷害或是生病時，會從那里得到溫暖和安慰。在那里，歡樂得到分享，憂傷得到緩解；在那里，爸爸、媽媽互相尊重，孩子們被需要；在那里，最簡單的食物也味美得足以饗國王，因為那是自己賺來的；在那里，錢沒有愛心和善意重要；在那里，就是茶壺也在唱著幸福的歌謠。那就是家。
 What is home? A roof to keep out the rain? Four walls to keep out the wind? Floors to keep out the cold? Yes, but home is more than that. It is the laugh of a baby, the song of a mother, the strength of a father, warmth of loving hearts, lights from happy eyes, kindness, loyalty, and comradeship.
Home is the first school for young ones, where they learn what is right, what is good and what is kind; where they go for comfort when they are hurt or sick; where joy is shared and sorrow eased; where fathers and mothers are respected and loved, and children are wanted; where the simplest food is good enough for kings because it is earned; where money is not as important as love and kindness; where even the tea kettle sings from happiness. That is home.
 
There is a magical place in our own private universe that stays at the core of our being no matter where our life’s journeys take us. It is where we seek refuge when the slings and arrows of outrageous1 fortune have become too much for the soul to bear.
Home beckons the child in us who cries out above the din2 of conflicting sounds and clashing egos. It is like an unseen hand that lulls3 us to blissful slumber, a strong shoulder upon which we can cast our never-ending burdens, and an invisible light that warms the innermost of our hearts.
It smoothes our ruffled feathers, irons out the wrinkles in our overwrought4 countenance, and repairs the chinks5 in our overused armor —letting us forget our fears for the time being, bringing us back to more transcendent time when we were children.

Ah, the time when we were children. Wasn’t it the most pristine6 and sublime period of our existence? It is the time of our life when laughter was easy, dreams were for free, moments were tender, and troubles were a world away.
And home, sweet home, was the safest place to be. Inside its protective walls we were shielded from the inexorable7 pains of growing up, taking them all in, and letting them go. Its unblemished8 air allowed us to breathe generously the fresh smell of morning sunshine, the invigorating whiff9 of new mown hay, animals in pasture, flowers in bloom and soft breeze blowing from the horizon.
It is a virtual reservoir of the loveliest thoughts and fondest memories of our life, mostly well and devoutly spent to be wished for again and again a harbor where things and faces are warm and familiar, giving and nurturing, caring and everlasting. It bequeathed to us in no small measure the priceless gift of innocence, the wonderful feeling of mirth and the invaluable sensation of being forever young.
It is where we shed our superficial selves, repair our battered bodies, boost our wilting10 spirits, fix our tarnished11 psyches, mend our bruised emotions and change our evil ways.
It is that one warm spot in all of God’s marvelous creation where we could be children again —feet up, hair down, laughter perpetually etched on our faces, like goblins12 playing in the rain, romping13 in the mountains, running up and down barefoot on the shore, frolicking14 as if there wasn’t any worry in the world.
When we were in the simplicity and buoyancy15 of our youth, all that we had were dreams to spin, rainbows to chase, stars to wish upon, and dewdrops to catch. Home shapes the persons we are today. It stirs passions long laid dormant, letting it all break out and fall free. And we always emerge the better for allowing ourselves to delight in the breathtaking review of oft-trodden pathways and old, familiar places; the welcoming embrace of cherished faces; and the fond memories not at all faded by time.
Indeed, more often than not, we stray too far to places unknown in search of what we need, what we want and what we would die for just to have —and we return home to find it.