Home or House - Views of a Traveler

I was born and mostly raised in Huntington Beach, CA that will always be my home. That is the place where I remember the most about growing up, the place where I feel most connected to. From there we moved to Libya - that certainly wasn't a home, it was barely a house; it was survival and a hope for safety. From there we moved on to Wisconsin where we were for 7 years and moved 3 times. None of those houses even had a chance to become a home. At least under my definition of home. A home being where one is accepted with faults and strengths and unconditional love even when you completely screw things up; because lets face it we all do from time to time; but it shouldn't be the end of something it should be an opportunity to spur growth on - to make what people had just a bit better; a bit stronger. As an adult the longest I've lived in a general facility was in Guam; 9 years - 4 houses. The closest I ever came to a second "home" was with my mom and dad and I was 22. The first time I felt close to any one since being about 9. Then moving to Arizona we moved 4 times in 10 or so years... are there roots here to call home? No there are houses we have lived in; non of which have been full with unconditional love and support. Most filled with verbal and mental abuse. So now in search of a real home... a place where we can all screw up and life goes on; brings the family closer rather then throwing up walls. Doesn't really matter where a home is because it is a feeling not a place. So my chance at having a home again may for the moment be lost and gone. I can only hope that someday that feeling of home will come around again. In the mean time there is sadness, hurt, pain and canatonic lostness.