“Home” does not necessarily mean the building you grew up in – it can be a moment, a natural landscape, a beloved pet, or a place that does not exist anymore. The Openwide editorial team reflects what “home” means to them.


Processed with VSCO with b1 presetHome isn’t a single place for me. I find peace whenever I’m near a large body of water – one where I can just stare at the hypnotizing waves and look off into the horizon and forget everything. Lake Ontario and the Atlantic Ocean in Nova Scotia are two of my favourite “homes”. These homes are permanent fixtures of the planet (at least for now…) so I’m glad I can always go back to them when I need to.



Whenever I visit home I take absolute advantage of the complete silence. All I need in life is enough silence to hear Koo Koo (picture above) purring, a good book (Station Eleven is incredible; I can’t recommend it enough), and a tea (preferably in my mom’s favorite Tim Horton’s mug – pictured above – but any holder of liquid will do).


It took me a while to really understand what “home” meant. If you were to ask first year me, I would’ve pointed the house I grew up in where I can find my room and bed, my parents and my brother. But the more I thought about what a “home” was, the more complex it became than just a roof over my head. “Home” can be anywhere. Whether if it’s the quiet UCC during late hours, a coffee shop you and your long time friends always meet up at, or a country far away, “home” is more of a feeling than an actual thing. For me, I have “homes” all over the world, and to this day the places I can consider “home” are growing the more I learn and explore the world. Even though there are times where my family and friends are far away, the sense of “home” will always travel with me wherever I go.



Home means a lot of things to me, but I think I feel moments of “homeness”. Pouring a glass of red wine and cooking a dinner with my mom is a snapshot of home. We always share the most laughs and funny stories while making dinner together. In these moments she is somehow able to seamlessly give me crass dating advice while passing on traditional Danish recipes. We could be cooking in Australia or Antarctica and it would probably still feel like home.


Home, to me, is being comfortable. Not necessarily being in a physical state of comfort, but an emotional state of comfort. Home is being in a place where you can be yourself completely. It’s being surrounded by people that accept you without judgement. It’s also being able to say whatever’s on your mind (or say nothing at all, if that’s your preference). The wonderful thing about this is that home isn’t confined to any physical quarters. Given the right support and the right amount of time, I can feel at home anywhere. Home travels with me.


In thinking of what makes me comfortable, as that is what makes home home, I think I am privileged to say there are many things I consider home. One of these homes is spring. Spring has me filled with all sorts of mushy feelings just from looking out my bedroom window or walking to the bus stop, but also brings my absolute favourite day- leaf day. For those who are unfamiliar, which I’m assuming is most, as this is a term my Aunt Em coined, leaf day is the day you realize the trees are budding leaves. This isn’t the day you notice a few buds, but the day you walk outside and everything collectively looks green. The indescribable energetic and serene feelings this day brings makes me feel most comfortable; most at home.

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