My mom and dad are my best friends. She sang me lullabies when I was young and could not sleep; he taught me how to fish. She was a shoulder to cry on, and on my wedding day; he walked me down the aisle.

My parents are aging now and can’t quite do what they used to. Plus they insist on staying home, in the house where they raised me. The home with photos of our family scattered on the walls— photos that are cherished moments and a reminder of the love that fills this place.

Our home is not just a place. The walls reverberate with countless memories— times of compassion, love, happiness, joy, sadness, and even heartbreak. Home wraps its arms around my parents and imbues them with a sense of who they are, where they have been, and their life yet to be lived. Home is family. Home is independence and security. Home is where they want to be.