"Home" is my favorite word. Today, it may be one of yours as well. While "house" is a Capricornian concept that emphasizes structure and form, a kind of construction, the practical uses of land and materials, "home" is the province of Cancer. The cooking smells, comfy upholstered furniture, jumbled memorabilia, pets, bookbags, and discarded jackets of everyday life. The low hum of a television or radio, tuned to someone's favorite channel while dinner is prepared. The porchlight turned on to meet the weary traveler, returning home after a long day of work.

Sometimes, after an especially long, hot, uncomfortable summer day, my husband and I take a twilight stroll around our neighborhood. Windows are thrown open to catch the evening breezes, and out of them spills children's voices, the drone of the evening news, the clattering of supper dishes being washed. We watch our neighbors moving around inside their homes in an intimate domestic ballet, relaxing on sofas, eating ice cream, getting the kids settled down before bedtime. I'm old enough to know that what I'm glimpsing through the window is not the whole story; every home holds sadness and anger, passion and joy, that punctuate the quiet hum of domesticity. But there's something reassuring about glancing through a window at twilight and seeing fellow humans huddled in a womb-like dwelling, engaged in the ancient ritual of creating a tribe.

What makes your house feel like home? How does it make you feel nurtured and protected? What is the "home" inside of you - and how can you share it with the world, creating an atmosphere of acceptance, nurturing, and nourishment for your friends, your neighbors, and your co-workers?