I’ve been giving some deep thought lately to a simple word, an important word, yet one that seldom resonates with us.

That word is “home.”

It’s a little word that seldom jumps out at us when we say it.

We say, “I’m going home,” or, “I’m staying home.” The action in those two examples focuses on what we are doing, not what the word home represents.

There’s a big difference when we refer to our house or our home.

We don’t say, “I’m going to clean my home.” We say we are going to clean our house.

Our house is a building, a structure of some kind. Our home, on the other hand, has deeper shades of meaning, even though we seldom think about it.

We can be proud of our house and can appreciate where we live. But a home is much more than a building structure.

It’s our “home” that gives us creature comfort. It’s our home that welcomes us, soothes us after a hard day and wraps us in a comfortable familiarity.

Comfortable familiarity says it all.

Most of all have had plenty of times when, after a long, hard day, we were comforted by the familiarity of the place we call home.

Poets and songwriters don’t write glowing verses about a house. But though the years we have had an avalanche of feeling poured into poems and songs about the simple word “home.”

Perry Como crooned the allure of being home in the classic, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.

“If you want to be happy in a million ways,

“For the holidays you can’t beat home sweet home.”

Home doesn’t have to be fancy or even adequate to hold that special allure for us.

There’s nothing about a building that can beckon us, regardless of how grand it is. We don’t get warm, fuzzy feelings about a structure.

“Home” isn’t a structure. It’s a feeling, a place in your heart.

Yet, many of us take our home for granted. We are more likely to focus on what home improvement we want rather than on a keen sense of appreciation for the place we call home.

It’s irony that the more we have, the more we take for granted.

Way back in 1823 John Howard Payne penned these words for a song in the Maid of Milan opera:

“Mid pleasures ands palaces though we may roam,

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”

When the song was relaunched in 1852, it became a hit as the words “Home Sweet Home” were immortalized. The quote found its way to inclusion in several movies, including the unforgettable closing scene in “Over the Rainbow.”

The words also continue to find their way in the hearts of many of us who, at one time or another, have been given to say, “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”

It’s something I’ve said many times in gratitude for the little Florida cottage I now call home.

When I moved in my friend Linda Koehler painted one of the shingles from my former Pennsylvania house with the words “Answered Prayer.” That plaque hangs in its place of honor in my dining room.

I’ve always felt that Florida home is an answered prayer, even though I was never smart enough to pray for this little slice of paradise.

I often call my home “humble,” and it certainly is, depending on one’s frame of reference.

One friend insisted my home is quite nice, not humble. It’s both.

When I was looking at homes in Florida, as soon as I saw the little cottage flooded with sunlight and surrounded with a beautiful water view, it spoke to my heart.

My Realtor insisted I buy a bigger place, saying I could get more home for just a bit more money.

I didn’t want bigger. I wanted the cute little home I could continue to afford in retirement.

While I do complain about lack of storage, I’ve never been sorry. I still continue to say, “Thank you, God” several times a day.

From the time I open my eyes in the morning I am soothed by my peaceful surroundings and by the sunlight flooding through the rooms.

It’s a happy abode and I am forever grateful.

But with COVID-19 raging out of control in our tourist-filled area, I’ve had to pull back from nonessential excursions, including getting my hair cut and going for the medical message that helps my back pain.

The hardest thing has been cutting back from the few social friends I’ve been enjoying. Unlike me, they have no qualms about crowded airports and flying back and forth while the number of local COVID cases are escalating out of control.

One friend said I am putting myself in a self-imposed prison. That’s true.

COVID-19 keeps narrowing my world.

But we all have to do what is best for our particular circumstances.

For many, that means improving homes that are now also work places, school settings and yes, prisons, if you choose to look at it that way.

While I too hate confinement, I continue to be grateful for my home, for the wildlife around it and the incredible weather in my little piece of paradise.

Home sweet home is still something to cherish.

Contact Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net.