Home for the Holidays

Last night's "Hallmark" moment was brought to me by my family.
My family.
For the first time in months, we all were home together.
We spent the evening gathered around the fireplace, talking, laughing, reminiscing. Even the dog and the cats joined us in family reverie.
It occurred to me then how our definition of family and "coming home" changes with time. I used to consider "home" wherever my parents were, as I'm sure my kids still do today. We moved so often in my childhood that there was never a specific "place" that I equated with home; "home" was wherever my family was.
Now, home is my own house, with my husband and children. We're going to my mom's for Thanksgiving this year, but that's not going home for me.
And someday, my house will be "Grandma's house," too. As my children find love and marriage and have children of their own, my house won't be their "home" any longer.
And that's the way it should be.
I do think, however, that "home" will always be the place where we gather with our family.
Home is not a place.
It's the people we love.