Who Says You Can't Go Home?

“The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.” 

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just like that, my year lease on my apartment ended on Sunday. It’s difficult to believe I’ve basically been responsible for myself for the past 12 months (with some financial help from my parental units). I’d become attached to that slightly tacky, humid, and dusty flat, but inevitably, the time had come for me to move on again. We all have a place we call home, whether we want to call it “home” or not. Some of us have multiples homes, but I don’t necessarily want to focus on a physical house.

There are only two houses my parents have owned that I can recall. The one I’ve lived in for 20 years of my life, and the one they moved into this past year. I never thought about how moving would affect my life, but I also never thought my parents would move out before I did. Surprisingly, the transition was not what I expected. Sure, I was afraid I would be dropped into a strange place that would never feel familiar to me. I thought I would leave so much behind, physically, that is. I assumed that feeling of “home” would dissolve. I was wrong.

I’ve written about my friends and family before, so I may repeat myself a bit. I’ve made friends and gained more family members throughout my life. Some have gone, and some have stuck around. Maybe some of you have noticed that you feel more at home when you're around the people who mean the most to you than when you are at your physical dwelling place. I feel "at home" when I'm visiting my parents, but I feel less "at home" when I go to their house and they aren't around.
When I go to visit my old haunts from my hometown or from my college town, all the sights are there, but something often seems to be missing.  I think being pulled away from what was familiar and comfortable to me and thrown into college is what took me to reevaluate the meaning of "home."

It's possible the entire world is our "home," but the places that make us feel "at home" the most in this world are where people live who give us a sense of security and contentment. The people around me are what make me feel at home. Whether we're in a rinky-dink restaurant at two in the morning or sitting on the floor watching an old film, we treat each other like a family. I've grown more as I've surrounded myself with people who care about me. I have a better sense of responsibility, and I do my best to be hospitable towards these people. My family makes me feel at home, and my friends make me feel at home. As much as both groups tend to drive me crazy, I think that's part of the reason I feel so rounded.

Home can also be a state of being for you. I often have a sense of familiarity and warmth, and I feel at ease. My mind is relaxed, and any stresses of the day seem to be kept at bay because I know all of of that can wait. I can be myself without worrying about not being accepted for my personality. All of this seems to lead back to the people who I consider part of my family.

Sure, certain places and things might seem homely to you, and there is nothing wrong with that. I enjoyed being in the comfort of my own apartment or house; however, I feel more satisfaction when I can be with the people that make these places and things more homely. I always appreciate the comfort friends and family provide to make me feel "at home." Don't ever take for granted the people who lift you up and welcome you into their own lives. 

“Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?”

― Stephanie Perkins