The best kind of home is a spacious place, because “space” rhymes with “place” as if they were meant to be found in the sounds of one another, and both contain an “ace” and paired off like the animals in Noah’s ark. One lost without the other; one found within the other. The road that runs past tries to circle it without breaking, only to find that such a home’s space can’t be contained – not because boundaries are what defines the word, but because a good home; a true space will always spill up and over its own definition, and become inhabited by more than the world has to offer.
The best kind of home is place where triumph is found – triumph, not safety, because obstacles will exist as long as there is someone to make it exist. But the best home will offer a place to lean on and take shelter in for the weary to rest and regroup, and bring victory back to the area between a home’s walls.
The best kind of home is found in the strength of another, where there’s power in a name and bestowed even upon the words that are given to man, and where even the most misunderstood and overlooked of beings can be used as the home’s very foundation. The best is blessed, just because it exists. Or just because, because no word or explanation can exist for that kind of home.