In 2005, my father sold the house we lived in. He was 47. I was 20.
He believed he owed no explanations to anyone. But in the years that followed, his decisions shaped the family’s reality in ways none of us could have imagined.
Over the next 11 years, we lived in 9 different rented homes, an average of one every 1.2 years. Constant motion. No roots.
In 2016, I finally managed to build a home for the family. A place that wouldn’t change every other year. A roof that felt like it belonged to us.
I had moved out in 2007 and was following my own trail of rentals. I have lived in 13 of them so far. For nearly a decade, I lived in shared accommodations, chasing independence but never quite finding belonging.
Then, in 2015, my wife and I rented our first place together. It was our space, but it never really felt like home. Just walls and furniture. It lacked warmth & identity. Something that I had always imagined a home should feel like.
That changed in 2017.
We moved into a smaller studio apartment, barely 500 sq. ft. But with the right intentions and a little effort, we made it ours. We crafted functional zones, added personal touches, and let the space evolve with us. For the first time, it felt like home.
So what makes a house a home?
Is it the size? The decor? The memories you create within?
To me, it’s functionality and freedom. The ability to be able to shape and mould a space to your needs, as many times as you might need or wish, to let it carry your essence. A home must allow you to mentally and spiritually grow inside it.
That little studio taught me that you don’t need a large space. You just need a space that works for you.
Over the years, I’ve seen many houses but very few homes.
One friend lived in a sprawling villa, but the house always felt chaotic and broken. It was depressing to visit.
Another friend’s home was so cluttered and poorly maintained that it felt damp and lifeless.
On the other hand, my first employer lived in a thoughtfully designed home. Every detail, down to the placement of a nail, had purpose. That place inspired me.
An aunt of mine lived in complete neglect despite being financially secure, her home resembled nothing short of decay.
And yet, another mentor had a minimal, artful home. Each item placed with intention. Being in his space felt like walking through someone’s inner life. It felt like a journey.
Years later, I met a woman who lived in a small cottage filled with stories: antique furniture, weathered books, heirloom photographs. Her home carried history, energy, soul.
A friend recently moved into a four bedroom villa and is working tirelessly to turn it into a home. It’s just for two people. But still, decorating a place so big, assigning designated areas of the property to enjoy and nurture different parts of their life speaks volumes about the amount of effort the two of them are putting to make it the place of their dreams.
One of my client owns an ancestral property with tons and tons of antique things and furniture. It pains me the way he is maintaining it. To be fairly put, he is simply ruining it.
So, is it about wealth then? Does it take money to make a house a home?
Not really.
It’s awareness. It’s intention. It’s care.
It’s the emotional richness of the inhabitant, not the financial one.
Anyone can rent or buy a house. But to turn it into a home? That takes love, reflection, and the courage to shape your surroundings with meaning.
A home is not built with money alone. It is built with memory, warmth and the willingness to belong.