To have a home, a real home, a safe home, a loving home, is there any sweeter thing?
Home is a place, but not the building. Home is the people, the laughter, the sadness, the exciting and the mundane.
At home you are best known and best cared for.
And yet for many many people in New Zealand don’t have a home. They have a place they call home, a roof over their heads. But it is not a home, certainly not in the sweetest sense of the word.
I flew to Christchurch yesterday morning for meetings, was scheduled to get home at 8:30pm last night. By lunch time our meetings were done, and Tere graciously dropped me at the airport and I caught the last direct afternoon flight.
I was home for dinner, home to chat with my kids. I was tired as it has been a very busy last 7 days. But I was home.
There is no sweeter thing.
168 | 365 – This is a shot of the Q300 as we turn onto finals over the Waikato River to land home in Hamilton.