For years I have contemplated the ending to the sentence “Home is…….” I have been bombarded with Hallmark movies dripping with gooey sentimental ooze every winter holiday season that claim “home is where the heart is”. The older I get, the more I agree with that statement.
As I grow older characteristics of what I conceived as home have changed. Family members that once were the glue to connect these folks with which I share DNA are now deceased. Children have grown up and moved out. Friends went off to school or changed churches. So ….much…..has…..changed.
My classmates and coworkers talked about how excited they were to return home for Thanksgiving break last week. They spoke of time-honored traditions they shared with family and friends. They looked forward to interactions with loved ones. For the last few years so much of home has changed that I realize “going home” means something different for me.
Thanks to modern technology I was able to keep in contact with my family and friends while teaching English in Brazil. I missed them, the ability to drive to a Barnes & Noble when I felt like it and access to mobile Wikipedia. However, I really didn’t miss my old job, my place at home or other things that had become part of my normal routine. Even though I just relocated to another city for school a few months ago my sentiments remain the same.
Home has changed. Home is whatever little space I settle into where I am free to relax and recuperate from a long day. Home is in my car where I am able to yell or cry out my frustrations after a long day of job searching. Home is where my two feet take me as I walk, listening to the shuffled music selections on my mp3 player.
Wherever I am….there home is. Home is…wherever I am.