I'm catching up in Natter, where Nilly's poetry defines Home:
Oh, and to answer my own question: when I say the word "Home" (and in Hebrew, it's the same word for "house", so I like the English distinction between the two better), what my mind's eye see is not the interior of anywhere, but rather a window. For the longest time on my way to my parents' place, from highschool, the bus-stops I used both during my national service and on my BA, and even after I moved out, I would get to near the building (they lived on the 5th floor), look up, and see if there's a light in a few windows: my siblings' room, the room I shared with my sister, the big living-room windows, and the back-kitchen window. By that, before I put a foot inside, I could already tell who's there and even guess what they're doing. That lifting up of the head, the understanding of what each light in the window means, that's what 'smells' like the word "Home", for me.