'Home sweet Home' - How you know

How do you know that you're home? What is the sign that says: 'I've arrived'? I think it's phenomenally different for every person. For some it's the drowsy feeling that smacks you like a feather in the forehead as you sink into your bed that night. Others might say that it's the food, or that indescribable and innate smell that wafts through your house and your house alone. Is it that chip of paint on your door? Or is it the mere sight of your family? The possibilities are endless and each is heart-renderingly special.

But enough of poetic ramblings. I want to share about how I know that I am home. I think it's different for me in the sense that I was home-schooled and so many (including myself and my family - though in a sweet and endearing manner of course) will be of the mind that university is the well-deserved reward for all those years spent literally at home. Both parent and child no longer have the deep desire to see each other as they were quite up close and personal for majority of the secondary educational years. This also accounts for the lack of contact during term-time.

Anyhoo... This is how I know that I am home. This is the scene: car has just arrived with me in it and we are all in the process of getting my stuff from the car to my room with three dogs running boisterously around the a)garden, b) house and c) car. So now all four of us are in the same vicinity with three dogs acting like they've been ingesting some form of narcotic (my dad thinks they're on crack).

Opinions rage but the good thing is that they are all about the same things. Of course not everyone will have the same opinion at the same time. No no no, we must all have a different opinion as everyone else at the time, but these opinions work on a rotary system. It's like a rule. Thou shalt not have the same opinion as anyone else at the same time ast they do but thou wilt share that self same opinion at different moment. They follow this religiously - much like they were under the impression that if they were all to just agree on something at the same time it would be similar to plagiarism. These opinions range from: 'Why does she have so much luggage', 'She has far too much luggage', 'What's for supper and will we get to it in time if all we're going to be doing for the next century is moving bags from a car that will be relatively out of date by the time we get done', etc...

Amidst the sea of protest are the dogs. At this point I must explain our dogs that are supposedly drug addicts. Stephi is the poodle that no one wanted in the first place (we're all 'big dog' ppl). She is the stereotypical poodle that relies on quivering and yapping to get her through the day. She also cannot eat when someone is in the room and likes to scratch the backs of knees off anyone returning home from a long term. Whilst we all want her to die she does have her uses. She will warn us of anyone coming up the road from as far as 7kms. Special isn't she. Pippin is German Shepherd/Lab who thinks she is the same size as the poodle and will try to jump into my arms (that are full of bags) to prove it. Jemma is the queen. She is a King Rotweiller/Boerbull/Boxer that feels that it is her duty to growl, snap and generally punish the other dogs for whatever they are attempting to do when we are trying to get back and forth between the car and house. Due to her age she sometimes misses Pippin or Stephi in her attempt to snip them.

Cacophony of noise ensues: ppl are interrupting their soliloquies/opinions to shout at the dogs (or scream in agony depending on which dog), dogs are yowling and generally making excited noises.

And this is how the pastor and his family arrive back home with his pride and joy, the heir to family millions... Me.

But still I am not home. It is only when the pjs are on and I am in the lounge with all three dogs on lap and Father of the Bride II is on the television... And my dad has come to kiss the top of my head, given me a crushing hug and told me: 'Is daddy's precious home? Is my little piggie going to watch videos on MY tv and eat all MY food for a month and make sure that I never get to watch anything I want even though I pay for it?' This is all said tongue in cheek and earns the satisfied smile of a daughter who knows that her father is delighted that she is home even though she will dutifully fulfill all of the above.

It is after all of that, especially the conversation that takes place between father and daughter, that gives me that feeling that: YEAHBOY - I'M HOME!!!! The peace that settles in my heart is only interrupted my deep yearnings for all of those I've left at Rhodes. And even then... Well lets just say that the feeling passes with the next major turbulent sea of opinions that is emitted from the kitchen as everyone argues about what is a)FOR supper, b)what SHOULD BE for supper and c)what we'll eat if we don't want a motherless house.

And that is just a mere 10minutes after I have arrived.