I just heard this beautiful song (link below) that really touched my heart and made me think of HOME and also a lot about my sister who was a French teacher.
We all smile—often without realizing it—when we think of home.
There is something about the word that feels close and familiar, yet also distant and untouchable once we try to hold it.
Home carries our memories softly: warmth, laughter, quiet routines, and struggles that shaped us. Even the painful moments somehow convinced us it was worth keeping close to our hearts. And though we know there were things we would have wanted to change, we still feel a deep love and connection to our roots.
Home is the launching pad for our hopes and dreams. It is where our longings were first formed—often silently. Around kitchen tables and shared meals, through ordinary conversations that felt insignificant at the time, we learned how to belong.
Home is also where our sense of self began.
Am I capable? Am I enough? Am I lovable?
Those questions didn’t start in adulthood—they began there.
Our faith, or our sense of meaning, often started there too. Whether spiritual or practical, home gave us our first sense of purpose—a quiet calling to become something more.
We loved our parents, yet many of us wanted more than what they had. We wanted to go further, live differently, do better. That longing wasn’t rejection—it was growth.
As we age, our relationship with home becomes more complex. Memory softens and distorts. Love mixes with disappointment. Nostalgia pulls us backward—not always to a place, but to a feeling we once knew.
That feeling lives in Emilio’s piano piece, “For Carrie.”
The music moves slowly and tenderly, like footsteps through memory. There is a sense of waiting in it… of holding something precious that can’t quite be named. The melody doesn’t rush. It lingers, allowing longing, gentleness, and quiet sorrow to exist together.
Listening to it feels like standing at the edge of home—close enough to remember, far enough to ache. It reminds us that home is not only where we came from, but where we first learned how to love. And even when we can’t return, something in us still listens.
Perhaps what we miss isn’t the house, the people, or the past—but the version of ourselves who once felt held, hopeful, and whole.
And sometimes, music becomes the place where that version of us still lives.
🎹 Music Companion
Emilio – “For Carrie” (Piano)
▶️ Listen here:
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=Emilio+piano+For+Carrie
EXERCISE
What feelings, thoughts and images come up for you when you think of home?
Remember, don’t act your age!