Growing up, "home" was easy to define. "Home" was the house I grew up in, situated on the corner one block from my high school and two blocks away from the town's main street. "Home" was long runs on backroads that I had traveled since I joined the cross country team in the seventh grade. "Home" was hearing my parents car pull into the driveway after work and seeing our dog run to the door to greet them. "Home" was being able to recognize who was walking up the stairs just based on the sound of their footfall.

Then I moved to college. In the classroom, I was learning about cell respiration, public speaking, and great philosophers. At practice, I was exploring the city I had moved to through workouts and runs with my teammates. My nights were either spent in the library studying or in the residence hall lounge catching up with my floor mates. My weekends were a series of staying up too late, waking up just in time for brunch with friends, and taking long naps in between hours of studying.

This cycle repeated week after week at college until break would come, and I would suddenly be thrust back "home." Although reunited with my family, queen sized bed, and a shower where there was actually water pressure, part of me longed for the familiarities I had left on campus.

I think that through these experiences, I've come to understand that as we grow up, "home" can no longer be defined as a single place. Although that's absolutely terrifying, I personally believe it's one of the most beautiful truths of life.

Half of my heart belongs at college where "home" is time spent with my teammates on five mile runs through the snow, meeting up with friends for lunch at the dining hall, and dancing to Beyonce with my roommate after we both kill our exams.

The other half of my heart feels fulfilled when I return to my hometown where "home" is waking up to the smell of my dad cooking pancakes, laying down on the living room floor with my dog, and making a spontaneous Sheetz run with my brother just like old times.

"Home" will never be a single place again, but rather a collection of experiences and places where we have loved, laughed, and grown. Although that's a terrifying reality to come to accept, it's a truly beautiful thing if you allow it to be.