They say that home is where your heart is and I’m starting to think that they’re right. Home to me is wherever I feel most content, most comfortable and the most myself. It is where my mind and my heart can run free and be whomever they want to be.
Home is my shelter. It is where I’m with my family, the only people in the entire world who accept me, because they’ve known me for so long. Home is relaxing and the only place that I can really call my own. My room is my absolute home. It is my sanctuary. My place designed and furnished for me. It is where my ideas and creativity flow. It is where I make things–lots of things–and helps to define who I am. My room has my mark on it everywhere. It is my sacred place.
Home can change. Those lucky enough to spend a lifetime in their childhood home will never know the feeling of saying goodbye to a neighborhood or a room. They will never know the struggle of trying to adapt to a place and make it your own. They will never have those dreams of home, where your home in the dream, was your past or previous home, because you probably lived there so long that it’s what your subconscious believes to be your true home.
But I am grateful for my home. I am grateful for my mother who works so hard to have this home and who lets me stay with her while I try to figure out where I feel most at home in my own heart. I’m grateful for all I have waiting for me at home and that every time I leave to go explore somewhere new, I always have this home with my mother, my brother and my dog to come back to.
So thank you Home for being there for me. Thank you for being a place where I can rest my head. For being a place where I can explore myself and truly be me without judgment. Thank you for your shelter and warmth. And forgive me for not acknowledging you enough. I just expect you to always be there, when that may not always be the case. But thank you for being here now.