Home is where my past, present, and future meet. It usually combines experiences from my past, who I am with and what I am doing in the present, and how it all effects the man, husband, and father I will be in the future.

Sometimes home is an iron fence and a carefully planted row of trees. Sometimes home waits up for you with the kitchen light on. Sometimes home is on the road trailing pilgrims toward the sun. But sometimes home is the first hostel with a vacancy sign. Sometimes home is a town, outside of a town, outside of a town. Sometimes home isn't always where you live.

A home is a place of gathering. It’s about conversations, floors dirtied from guests, a worn in table and a place where nobody feels like they have to preform. For us, home means community. A shared table is a shared life.

Home is no longer about a finite address to me like it was when I was a kid. It’s about the experiences I have, no matter what city I may find myself in, with the people who matter most to me. The people who can make anywhere on Earth feel like home again.

Home, though not always a singular location, is a place that instills comfort, confidence, and repose, where the weight of the world lifts from your shoulders as quickly as fading breath from a window pane. It's a place where you can abandon pretense and pleasantry, and embody your most genuine self. Home should draw forth happiness like a much needed rain summons seedlings. 

Home to me is somewhere I can be 100% me. Where I don't have to be perfect. A place that always welcomes you with open arms. It's being in peace with yourself, being surrounded by extraordinary people that urge you and inspire you to follow your dreams and to keep moving.

I've come to find there are no right answers for how to live. If you're surrounded by fog, if you're crashing against the rock or if you're standing alone in the water...just remember you're not the only person going through it and you will find your place. Home is not a person or place, but a memory. Just remember where home is and find yourself there.

Over the past four and a half months of traveling, I've discovered that home is not where one lives per say, but where one feels alive. For me, the road has become my home. Not knowing what each day holds, but knowing that no matter what happens I am surrounded by the beauty of the earth and the people that inhabit it. I'm fortunate enough to share my story - my home - with these people.

You know that place where life used to boring and monotonous? That place where hard times found you, but at the same time so did some of the best memories you'll never forget? That familiar place when you arrive you can't help but crack a smile at all the experiences you had? That's what home means to me.

Home is family. Home is my wife and home is my son. Home is being together - anywhere.

Being in my early twenties, I feel there is a permanent home and there are temporary homes. Your family is your permanent home, wherever they are at, and it is probably the most nostalgic place in your mind. Temporary would be wherever and whatever you have made to be your comfortable space where you can think, and create, and grow.

Home - It's the happiness I feel knowing that my wife and boys are with me, and that all of us feel comfortable alongside one another. It doesn't matter where we are or what we're doing, as long as we're together, being true to ourselves. I consistently remind my boys that our our home is what we, as a family, make of our experiences together.

My mother always said, “you love to travel, but you love equally having a place to come back to”. Home, for me, is the unorthodox motel off the beaten path or the strangers couch in a town I’ve never been to. I have traveled extensively since I was 16 and consider the road home, but now at 35 there is nothing like getting back home and digging my feet into the earth after a weary adventure. The older I get, the more I care about where I return to. I definitely see myself holed up in some cabin at the foothills of a mountain in Montana as an old man.

We created Buck Mason because the idea of living in an America where we don't make things anymore didn't appeal to us. Because we believe for every stitch and every rivet there should be an American worker who takes pride in making a quality product. That's why we're bringing manufacturing back home. It's what drives us every day.

The meaning of home can mean a number of things for me. Whether I'm traveling and I need to find the comforts of home or when I'm with my closest friends and dearest family doing nothing but enjoying them and their love.

Finding home is more about finding ones self and true contentment with who you are. For years, I believed home was a location but it's actually not that at all. I have lived in many countries and various spaces but I never once felt that I was home. Instead, I have come to believe that home is where you make it, the people that surround you and the ability to fully appreciate what is around you. It goes where you go. Home is found from the inside out. It really is where the heart is.

A house becomes a home when there is breath between these walls. A home is made up of the gifts of love and grace and family all working together to create something bigger than ourselves. Our home is a gift that we choose to share with others and enjoy over a bottle of wine and a home cooked meal.