“I’m going home, to the place where I belong, where your love has always been enough for me.”
Daughtry has been stuck in my head this past week, and rightfully so – tomorrow I get to go back to my house, my town, all the familiar things I’ve left behind after coming here, and I could not be more excited (I mean, we are ignoring the fact that I’ve already been home for a weekend, so it’s not going to be me reacquainting myself the way I thought it would be in August, but still). The semester has gone by in the blink of an eye, and I’ve eaten, slept, socialized, worked, and Netflixed my way through it (but not necessarily in that order). An experience that I thought would feel like a year passing went by in about a week of wonderful times. Proudly I can say I’ve enjoyed every minute.
But I just really can’t wait to go home.
Home – that inherently comfortable place that houses your favorite comfy couch, that place where friendly faces are omnipresent, even if it’s just your sibling’s or pet’s, that place with the magical kitchen in which only your mom can make that special dish you love. That place where you can truly be yourself, where you can express all of your quirks, that place where you feel needed and loved and also need and love others.
Home is where my house is. However, if you take another look at what I just said (and tweak it a little), my home isn’t just my house.
Ever since I decided to go back and visit while I’m on break this week, the more I think about it, my home contains that perfect after-class study spot, the people that I’ve grown up with over the years, the snack bar that made the best cookies ever (until I came here and had a West cookie). My home was the place that molded me over the years, where I learned to be more of myself and develop some really close bonds with teachers and students.
Home is where my high school is. But wait, there’s more.
Over the course of this semester, my home has manifested itself in the comfy couches of the GLOBE lounge, in the many people I have the pleasure of seeing during the course of my day, in the solace of Redifer’s French toast sticks. Here, I’ve learned to say the things that are on my mind, to act how I feel, to already form some great friendships which I really hope last at least for the time I’m here.
Home, to me, is where the heart is. And my heart spreads itself across multiple locations, all which have the same exact feelings. The idea of home can’t be tied down to a specific place because it represents so much more than that. Home is a sense of comfort, of love, of growth. Home is a sense of family, of friends, of community. Home is exactly where you want it to be.
So today I’m at home, but tomorrow I’m going home. When I go home, I’ll still end up visiting home. And I eagerly look forward to the day I’ll be coming back home. But no matter where I travel, you can probably guess what song I’ll be listening to on the way.