Home sometimes survives as a way of preparing one simple meal.

When a place is gone, or too far away, what remains of it is often practical rather than sentimental. The order you add things to the pan, the amount of salt, the particular way the vegetables are cut: all of that came from a kitchen and a person, and it keeps working long after both are out of reach. It is a small portable version of somewhere, carried in the hands.

If you have a dish like that, make it soon and make it properly. Teach it to someone if you can. Recipes travel further than houses do, and they hold more than they appear to.