Why do we live in houses?

I threw this question out there a few weeks ago while sitting in deep thought. I had spent the last car ride staring out the window, contemplating the wooden boxes along the side of the road. 

Naturally, I know the answer. Shelter from the elements, mainly. A place to store our things, and congregate the people we want to be around. Yet my mind still wanders and asks “Why?” (as a good philosopher, I suppose, amirite?)

“This is mine” is all I can hear. Is it really? What is it with our species and possession? 

“This is my girlfriend” one will say, as a way to say she is yours and no one else’s. Really? My children, my car, my money….

I think fleetingly back to my college days. Why do we all look so fondly back on those wild times? Could it be because most of our time was spent without a consideration for ownership? Some lived in dorms, I spent much of it sleeping from house to house. Trekking up a long hill with my back-back to school, taking buses and trains. Sure, we look back on some of it as “immature,” and ashamedly admit to feeding off of our parents finances. 

But a part of me still sees that wandering nomadic life and finds something to admonish and extract a deeper life truth. 

Even if I can’t elaborate on it and attach to it words, it is there.

Penny for your Thoughts? Can you make sense of any of those thoughts? 

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