septiembre: Home Sweet Home

I’ve lived for over a month now “homeless”, by some definitions, living out of suitcases in Madison, my parents’ home, orientation in Chicago, and orientation in Cuernavaca. It has given me a lot of time to ponder the idea of “home”. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it is a loaded word with many layers of meaning. For me, “home” can be many things but rarely is it a place. It can be the familiar smell of a childhood home, a summer day at the cabin, a mother’s knowing smile, a father’s gentle hug, a best friend’s laugh, or lazy conversations curled up next to a loved one. These are all definitions of “home” to me; it is what brings me joy and connects my heart to another. It is genuine and it is impossible to ignore. “Home” will have many new names and faces here, but I still hold a special place in my heart for the homes I left behind. A home is never forgotten, but like everything, it can evolve through this mysterious and powerful journey of our one odd and precious life. New homes are made, and some old homes will fade, but love is the source of “home” and the gift that I can always find there.