Home Is Not only a Place
Someone once shared a question with me that has stayed in my heart ever since.
They were asked, “Where in the world would you most like to live?”
Their answer was simple:
“Who’s going to be there with me?”
The moment I heard it, I stopped and thought, yes, that’s it.
Because the older I get, the more I realize that home has very little to do with a building, a city, or even a country. Home has everything to do with the people, memories, and connections that fill our lives.
The House We Had to Leave
When I was eleven years old, my father died.
Not long afterward, my mother and I had to sell the home my parents had built together. It was their dream home. It stood on the exact piece of land they wanted. It had the kitchen my mother had always dreamed of having. Every detail reflected a future they had imagined together.
And suddenly, we were walking strangers through it, pointing out its beautiful features, trying to convince them why they should want it.
I still remember one day when the real estate agent was busy showing another property, and I had to give a couple a tour myself.
I was eleven years old.
Showing people my swing wasn’t easy.
But when I think about that experience today, what stands out isn’t the sadness of selling the house. It isn’t even the loss of the building itself.
What I loved about that home was never the walls.
It was the life that happened inside them.
A House Is Not a Home
Recently, I spoke with a friend who had to sell her grandparents’ house after they passed away.
She told me she walked through the house one last time.
Not to say goodbye to the house.
To say goodbye to the memories.
To remember the laughter around the table.
The conversations.
The holidays.
The people.
I understood exactly what she meant.
Over the years, I’ve told my mother many times that even if we had somehow managed to keep our family home, even if we had stayed there despite all practical reasons to move, it would never have been the same.
My ffamily wasn't complete anymore.
Part of the spirit of that home was gone with him.
Because a home is not a building.
A home is the energy created by the people inside it.
It’s laughter echoing through the hallways.
It’s tears shared when life becomes difficult.
It’s standing together when giving up would be easier.
It’s having someone who knows the real you and loves you anyway.
It’s friends walking through the front door without needing an invitation.
It’s knowing you belong.
A home is not a structure.
A home is a feeling.
Between Countries
As the Fourth of July approaches and conversations about identity become more common, people often ask me a question:
“Do you feel German or American?”
The truth is, I don’t know that I can choose.
I love hearing German spoken when I arrive at Frankfurt Airport. I love reading German newspapers. I love the familiarity of the language I grew up with. I love spending time with my mother and revisiting places connected to my childhood.
Those experiences bring comfort because they connect me to memories and people I love.
But the United States has given me opportunities I never imagined.
I’ve met incredible people here.
I’ve built friendships here.
Most of my work and content today is in English, allowing me to reach and help far more people than I could have imagined years ago.
I feel grateful for both.
I don’t feel pulled between two worlds.
I feel expanded by them.
The Places That Hold Pieces of Us
And then there is England.
I’ve been visiting England since I was fourteen years old.
Year after year, I returned to spiritual communities there. I met people who understood grief. People who understood healing. People who witnessed different chapters of my life and growth.
Many of those friendships have lasted decades.
Every time I return, it feels familiar.
Not because I grew up there.
Not because I lived there.
But because people I love are there.
The place became meaningful because of the connections formed within it.
So Where Is Home?
People often ask me where I feel most at home.
Germany?
America?
England?
My answer surprises some people.
My home is not one country.
My home is this world.
Home is wherever the people I love are.
And because those people are scattered across different countries, cultures, and continents, pieces of my home exist in many places.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt comfortable limiting home to a single location.
Maybe home isn’t where we live.
Maybe home is where our heart feels connected.
Maybe home is the feeling of belonging.
The feeling of being seen.
The feeling of being loved.
The feeling of loving others.
And if that’s true, perhaps we can have more than one home.
Perhaps we are meant to.
Perhaps every meaningful connection creates another place where part of our soul feels at home.
And maybe that’s why that simple answer moved me so deeply.
When asked where in the world he wanted to live, he answered:
“Who’s going to be there with me?”
Because in the end, home was never the place.
Home was always the people.
Supporting your journey home
As a spiritual medium, teacher, and mentor, I have the privilege of helping people reconnect with what matters most.
Sometimes that connection comes through communication with loved ones in spirit.
Sometimes it comes through healing after loss, rediscovering purpose, or finding a deeper connection with ourselves.
If you are navigating grief, searching for meaning, or simply looking for a greater sense of belonging on your journey, I offer private readings, mentoring, classes, and spiritual development opportunities designed to support you wherever you are.
Because while we may spend our lives searching for home, often what we are truly seeking is connection and that is something available to all of us.
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