What makes a house a home? Not size, of course. I've been in some of the grandest houses in prefix = st1 /America, and it's clear no one lives there. Earlier this year, I had dinner in a mud hut inEthiopia, where we sat on chairs next to the hostess' bed -- a home that had more warmth than any house I've been in since. Now John Edwards is exploring what makes a house a home in his just-released Home: The Blueprints of Our Lives. There Edwards writes, "This isn't a book about houses; it's a book about homes. About the values they rest on, the dreams they are filled with, and the people they have shaped," Edwards writes. "The houses and circumstances are different, but much of what you find inside will be familiar." Whether you're sitting in an airport flight now, waiting to fly to your childhood home for Thanksgiving, or in your own home waiting for the  s to arrive, you know what he's talking about. We've lived in our townhouse for 21 years. It's home now. The loose windows that shake in the wind. The fireplace so shallow it holds only one log. The kitchen window that offers a view of the world passing by. It's where friends sit on the kitchen counter drinking wine while dinner is being fixed. I lived there for only 18, but it will always be my true home. Even the lamp in the west living room window, which I could see far down the road when driving home late at night, still shines. While all this talk about childhood memories can be warm and comforting, home is whom you're with, not where you are. As Edwards writes, "Home is family. Home is safety. Home is faith." Happy homecoming. According to the author, what makes a house a home?
All the belongings in the house. Feelings of warmth and comfort. The houses and circumstances. Drinking with friends on the kitchen counter.