Home is where the heart is

I recently had a conversation with someone that made me feel really sorry for them.  This person, whom I'll call N, is a family member.

When I saw N a few weeks ago, I decided to mention Mexico.  Her immediate response was, "What?  What about your house?"

Now, you have to understand that the differences in beliefs between this person and myself vary greatly.  For N, the entire world and her whole life has revolved around money.  Every decision, every plan, every step she's taken, has had money at the root.  Not 'making millions' kind of money, but building some sort of stable base.  Having money in the bank.  Having money put away for 'some day'.

When we bought our house, her advice - which she offers up freely and without concern as to the other party's feelings on the subject - was to buy the cheapest house we could find (within reason), thereby costing the least amount of money possible.  You certainly wouldn't want to spend any extra money on anything.  Once you've bought this house, you keep it.  Forever.  You never move, never upgrade to a bigger house, never plan on leaving it.

But, what this translates to in her eyes, is having a home.  Which, I guess, makes sense.  I can understand where she's coming from.  I know she grew up very poorly and struggled to make ends meet.  Now, retired, she has more than enough money put away to ensure her a very comfortable life.  But still, her main concern is keeping it in the bank, where she can "see" it.

So when she said to me "What about your house?", my response was, "It's just a building.  A thing.  It can be replaced.  We never intended on retiring in this house."

She couldn't understand that.  She looked at me for a few seconds, and changed the subject.  By changing the subject, she wouldn't have to deal with something she didn't like.  She wouldn't have to look at another person's opinion, which if different from her own, is inherently wrong and faulty.

My feeling is that a house does not mean a home.  My 'home' is wherever my family is.  Wherever I can hug my kids, feed them dinner, share time with them.  My 'home' is wherever my husband and I happen to hang our hats.  

I feel sorry for N.  I wish she could understand that 'money' and 'having' and 'real estate' don't mean the same thing to me that they mean to her.  I can leave my house and find another, and that new house will be home as long as I have my family.

I know that I can't change the way she is.  I can't make her understand.  I can't open her eyes.  I can't help to see that new experiences are what living should be about.  She'll never understand that I don't want to stagnate in one little pond, when there are so many other little ponds to see.

I wish I could, but I can't.  That makes me sad.