It's impossible to not be thinking about our childhoods during these end-of-the-year holidays. The times spent trick-or-treating, Thanksgiving feasts and Christmas mornings in the living room are all fond memories of home. People like to associate "home" with a sense of security, family, constant access to food and comfort. Home in the physical sense means different things to different people. To some it may be an apartment, a suburbia house, a trailer or it could be a city, a state or even a country, but for me, home will always be my family car.

To clarify, I don't live in my car and I'm not griping that I've never had a "real home," but whenever I refer to my childhood memories, I somehow find myself reminiscing about our family car rides. My family has moved a lot in my lifetime, so when I think of home, I think of many different places around the country.

I have memories of driving cross-country during our moves, from one home to another, and that few-day period where it feels like you have no home. All your belongings are in a truck and the bed you slept in last night won't be where you're sleeping tonight. But then you realize you're in a safe place with your family, your pets, usually music and if you're on top of things, a trunk full of snacks, so how is that not a home?

Each holiday was spent in a beautiful home in a great place, so, of course, when I think about Christmas mornings, I always think of a living room with my family and dogs. However, having so many different places I fondly referred to as home through my life made me realize that home is more than one place.

Some common associations with home include a warm bed and family and a kitchen, but most of all, we all have memories of home, whatever they may be. My memories of home include drives to the airport to pick up friends or family, car rides back home full of laughter and catching up, car rides of blasting music with the windows rolled down as I drive my siblings to piano or theater practice, spontaneous road trips to the beach with my friends, that one time we tried to tie the huge Christmas tree to the roof of the car and then drive up a mountain in the snow or summer vacations of days of driving to somewhere new and exciting with my siblings cracking jokes that made my parents want to throw us into the Grand Canyon. Of course, I have memories of walking through the front door to the smell of home cooking and getting tackled by my dog, but in order to get there, I had to drive.

I'm so thankful I think of my car as my home. It has taught me that home is more than just where you live, but it's where you're safe, where your family and friends can be together, eat tons of food and where you can make memories. But most of all, home is where the heart is, and you can take your heart with you anywhere.