I too, have been thinking a lot about what ‘home’ is. I’ve been pondering it since I moved out here. It’s become increasingly apparent that for me, it’s a series of recollections-
home is driving to my mothers house on a Saturday morning at 6 am with the windows rolled down, taking the back roads towards the airport, and the factories, all the while screaming Jamie Rhoden’s -you’re a liar. It’s summer nights spent climbing on top of the art museum only to lay on the gravel, holding hands with your favorite people, and knowing that they exist. It’s seeing your favorite band play your favorite song while you scream and cry out every word to it. Home is skipping the last class of the day, to lay on Christians bed, while he yells and fights and runs. Home is the place where you would wake me up at five a.m with kisses as you ran out of the door for work. It’s saturday nights at ihop with alisa, and three pots of coffee. Home is chasing friends down the street to beg them not to drive home drunk, even though all you really wanted was to eat vegan pizza and wait for that special someone to come in and slide off your clothes. It’s waking up with love notes hidden in your shoes, your helmet, and one wrapped around your morning cigarette. Home is throwing shoes at your apartment window on New years eve, as your friends sleep through your phone calls in a dire attempt to let you in. Home is the hour long drive as you drunkenly tell her about your ex, and how she ruined you. it’s the act of kissing your parents goodbye, and catching a snap shot of your grandparents still smiling at eachother after 55 years. Home is curving roads that end in car accidents, and fights that end in bruises. Home is that moment when someone you adore says ‘can I kiss you?’ and means it. Home is every floor that you sleep on, every laugh that brings you to tears, every sentiment that you’ve ever shared with another being, and every glance that you’ve been graciously awarded when you look at your surroundings. I love my home.