Many people I know shifted from house to house throughout their life, packing up all of their belongings and heading along to a bigger bedroom, or a newer school. And then there was me, the girl who held the same permanent address for twenty-two years. Yeah, the address I had to memorize in preschool was the same address that is still on my license today. I never knew what it was like to move from home to home, and I was perfectly okay with that. But now, that permanent home, the place I grew so used to, is 556 miles away from the place I live now, and I ache for it every day.
People think getting out, going away, living in a new city with a new start is glamorous. And in most ways, it has been. But there is still the pang in my heart when I think about my mom, my brother, my cat, my friends. I got used to having something so stable in my life, and I never understood how much that stability meant until 556 miles were placed between here and there.
The fact of the matter is, I am homesick. I do not say it often, I do not try and feel it often, but I am. I am homesick.
But, I am also lucky. Lucky that I have people, places, and things that are daily reminders of my old home. And so, this is a thank you letter for them.
To the people, there are very few of you, but you know who you are. Either from my hometown, or my college town, you are the people I can trust to bring up an old memory or some new drama. You are the people who remind me that this city can become my new home as long as I let it. You are the people who show me new things, all the while reminding me of the old. Your words are always reminiscent of home, and for that I am extremely grateful.
To the places, there a few more of you. The parks that show the beautiful green grass, and the changing leaves; colors as bright as they are at home. The old buildings all over the city, the ones which match the old beauty of my college town. The local bar, with bartenders as friendly as the ones from home. My workplace, where people hold doors open for me, similar to the ones that were held open for me all my life. Places where a thank you never goes unheard, and kindness is never forgotten. Places where the coffee is strong, and the discussions are insightful. Places that forever instill in me my upbringing, and that I will forever be indebted to.
To the things, the tangible objects, there are millions of you. The comfy old sweatshirt, the blankets from my old bed, the stuffed animals from my childhood. The upcoming flight that brings promises of home and of family. The pictures that showcase all of the times I never want to forget. The Facebook memories that bring me back to my stupid years, the years I’d probably give anything to go back to. The pens that list the places I would frequently visit (and shamelessly steal pens from every single time). The computer with all of my school files that I cannot find the guts to delete. A surplus of objects that hold a nostalgia that only I know, and that only I can hold forever close to my heart.
Everywhere, no matter where you are, there are things that will remind you of home. So whether you are ready to jump ship and get the hell out of wherever you are, or you are a little scared to finally go out and do your own thing, trust me when I say this: it will not always be easy, there will always be the twang of homesickness in your heart, but wherever you go, and wherever you look, there will always be a little part of home with you. So hold on to those people, those places, those things. Thank them, cherish them, and never let them go. Because I know what those things mean to me, and I wish I could thank them a million times over.
