Home. Noun. The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

This definition of home is just one of many. Home encompasses a wide range of definitions for a wide range of people. They say home is where the heart is, and as a college kid, my heart is in two places.

Home is San Antonio. It is the house I grew up in. The house with the green door. It is the ever-changing wreaths outside, and the tree that hasn't grown a single inch in all twenty years of my life.

But home is also College Station. It was the haunted dorm room with the giant crack above my bed. It is now the carefully decorated townhome that accurately describes its inhabitants.

Home is my mom's cooking. It is sitting at the dinner table every night with my family while Seinfeld plays in the background. It is going around the table and talking about our days.

But home is also four distinct and separate eating times. It's food that I attempted to cook or had delivered. It is dinner on the couch as we complain about school or tag each other in memes on Facebook.

Home is family movie nights. It is sharing the couch and watching everything from superhero flicks to movies my parents loved from the 80s. It is wedging myself between my cuddling parents because I want their attention. It is the look on my sweet pup's face when everybody is downstairs with her.

But home is also roommate movie night, every night. It is pushing the couches together and accidentally watching horrible movies. It is laughing so hard that soda comes out of our noses and turning on 30-minute Vine compilations because we'd been quoting them all day.

Home is going to the movies every Saturday with my parents, brother, and uncle. It is the sigh and head shake I get from my little brother as I claim a spot in the middle of my family because he knows I don't like sitting next to strangers.

But home is also going to $5 movies in College Station with Grant. It is saying I don't want popcorn but getting it anyways. It is also going to late night movies with my girls in my pajamas, and accidentally waiting too long to buy tickets that we end up sitting in the very front.

Home is conveniently asking my parents a question on weekend mornings in order to invite myself to their bed. It is my mom waking me up every birthday with a song. It is running into my brother's room on Christmas morning at precisely 5 a.m. every year.

But home is also all getting ready in the same room, even though each of us has our own bathrooms. It is having living room sleepovers and staying up all night just talking.

My first home, and my heart will always be with my family in San Antonio. But it would be unfair to say that College Station is not my home and my roommates aren't my family as well. I cannot wait to come back home after the school year and finally be back with my family, even though I'll miss my little home in College Station.