I am the nomad without a key

My mother and I lived without a key. She has never had one attached to her body, but she left me a whole horde of wishes that she never fulfilled. All my mother owned were keys to awe, homesickness, loss, and stillness. How could I have lived my entire life in a house without a key? I ask myself every time I return home a little late. Is that the upside of not owning one? That you can come home whenever and however you want?