Defining Home
He realized he had never been home before.
Growing up, his house was not his home. I wasn't because his parents didn't love him nor were they ever mean to him. Indeed, they tried their best to give him all the emotional and materiel support any child would ever want or need. But he still felt confined, they didn't KNOW they were confining him, but he still remembers the horror he felt when we got the minibike for his birthday. Didn't they understand how dangerous those things were? He wanted to explore, unleash his mind and too often, their well intentioned attempts would confine and restrict him.
Me-Maw's house was not his home. He loved her deeply and her house lives in his memories as warmth, fresh cookies, and love. Her house was his anchor, but not his home. It was those memories that kept him sane when he left for Germany, on his own for the first time. It was those memories that kept him sane when he received that tearful phone call from across the Atlantic, when Missy informed him that thier beloved Me-Maw was now at the side of her Lord and Savior. His Me-Maw was unconditional love, but her house was not home.
Germany was not home. Germany was where he first struck out on his own, he learned about Physics in the land that gave the world Einstein, then in a fit of insanity rejected him, drove him away and exchanged logic for a madman who demonstrated the unequivocal existence of evil. He learned about beauty at the opera and while watching Orchestras in Berlin, Frankfurt, and Munich. He learned about love, sex, and heartbreak that week with Weronika from Krakow. But she tearfully had to tell him that no, she could not stay, she had to return to her family and her commitment to go into the convent. She cried in his arms as she told him she prayed God would forgive her for breaking her vows and hoped that Sheldon would forgive her for breaking his heart. Germany was knowledge and lessons learned about physics and life, but it was not home.
Cal Tech was not home. Cal Tech was challenge, an environment where he could throw his considerable intellect into understanding the structure and nature of the universe. Despite the presence of Leslie Winkle, the Wicked Witch of the West, and Eric Gablehouser (how did that man ever get a Ph.D?). Cal Tech was intellectual freedom and the ability to stretch his mind he had craved since he was a child. He thought privately it might become home, as it was where he could seek to create knowledge for others and expand our understanding of the universe, but it was not home.
His apartment was not home. It was shelter and the friendship and the fellowship of Leonard, Koothrapali, and Wolowitz. It was playing paintball and building that beautiful killer robot. It was finding others who like Klingon Boggle almost as much as he does. More importantly, the apartment held his spot. That perfect combination of cushion, airflow and viewing angle that was as comfortable as a womb. But it still was not home.
Her apartment was not home. Her apartment was chaos personified. It was clutter and emotions and frustration at her squandering her abilities and talents. It was where he tried to show her she mattered and that her lack of knowledge could be rectified. How could she not see that she could do anything if she put her mind and energy into it. It was clutter, frustration, making Penny Blossoms and singing sea shanties. But it was not home.
But it was there he found home, when in a fit of frustration, he took Penny in his arms and kissed her. As she kissed him back, and as he felt her arms slide around his back, he realized that Penny, this most infuriating, frustrating, wonderful, and passionate person he had ever met, she was his home.