“At night, across the mountain, when darkness falls and the winds sweep down out of the hollows, the wild things with their shiny eyes come to the edge of the clearing. At such an hour, the house seems safe and warm, an island of light and love in a sea of darkness. At such an hour, the word ‘home’ must have come into being, dreamed up by some creature that never knew a home… In his yearning, there must have come to mind the vision of a mother’s face, a father’s deep voice, the aroma of fresh-baked bread, sunshine in a window, the muted sounds of rain on a roof, the sigh of death, the cry of a newborn babe, and voices calling ‘Good night’… Home… an island, a refuge… a haven of love.”
(Extract from John-Boy’s journal, in one of the episodes of “The Waltons”)
To have such a home is to be blessed… It may not be a large or fancy house. It may not even be a house at all: it may be a small apartment, an old boat, or a hut. But if it is a place of warmth and love, where you can freely share your thoughts and dreams, your accomplishments and your failures, being accepted as you are, faults and everything… it is a thing of beauty, a thing to be treasured!