Is it a specific place? The house you grew up in? The room you keep your most treasured possessions?
Is it a circle of friends and family? A group of people that support and give you strength?
Is it a country? Lines drawn on a map, forged by treaties and wars and negotiations?
Once, home was what I knew, what was familiar, what was nearby. It was a place of comfort and security. Back then the outside world was unknown, full of places I hadn’t seen and unfamiliar people.
We’ve been on the road, off and on, for over ten years now. First as a couple hanging out in dodgy hostels and hanging off the back of tuk-tuks in Thailand, and now as a family with two little travelers leading the charge.
All those years have left an imprint: Home is a mosaic; a collection of places and people, tastes and sounds.
Home is our one room bamboo hut overlooking the beach in Ko Lanta, Thailand.
Home is putting up our feet on the balcony overlooking our private waterfall in Bukit Lawang, Indonesia.
Home is the beautiful, bizarre landscapes of the Devil’s Marbles in Australia.
Most of all, home is where our bare feet take us.
We’re not the only ones thinking about what home means. Check out these thoughts on home by some of our favorite family travel bloggers.