It is stone and glass and square footage and a number recorded at a county office.

It can be bought, and sold, and locked, and its locks can be changed by a small man with a grudge and a keypad.

A house is a thing, and things can be taken.

But a home is not a thing.

A home is a relationship — between the people inside it, and between those people and the sense of safety they build together — and it cannot be bought or sold or locked, and no one can change the code on it, because it does not live in a wall.

It lives in the people.