Living most of my life with divorced parents, I became comfortable to the idea of moving around a lot. Although we stayed in the same area, I've moved schools, and I've lived in around seven or eight different houses. I didn't have a favorite place to hide, or marks on the walls measuring my height. The cups and bowls were always in a different cabinet and pictures were the only decoration that seemed to remain constant. I never got comfortable to the idea of "sleeping in my own bed" and I learned to never get too attached to one place. For me, home is not a place, or a house. Home is where my heart is, and my heart is with my family and the people I love.
Home is spending Fall Friday night's at the football game, and going to the local pub afterwards for pizza. Home is going to the local Bagel Shop every morning before school and getting a blueberry bagel with cinnamon butter. Home is walking over to your best friend's pond to go fishing, and spending your afternoons shooting bottles in the woods. Home is spending Summer Friday night's at the dirt track, feeling the rush of excitement as you hear the first car engine. Home is waking up every Sunday morning to the smell of cinnamon rolls, and the only thing you have to do that day is go to church. It's looking forward to my grandma's homemade mac and cheese, and game night at my aunt's. Home is being excited about fair week, and waving to someone almost every 10 minutes because you're related to them. Home is getting five minutes of fame at the homecoming football game. Home is having your best friend pick you up in her death-trap of a jeep just to go driving and singing. It's passing cornfields on the way to school, and learning how to drive on dirt roads. Home is Smith's Hot Dogs burnt over the fire. Home is not thinking twice about throwing on boots, a flannel, and a ball cap. Home is not only knowing everyone in your graduating class, but everyone in ninth through eleventh grade as well. Home is going to Dairy Supreme the day it opens, and once a week until it closes. It's knowing that when mid-September hits, don't expect to make plans with any of the boys because they will be hunting. Home is having Harry Potter movie nights with your best friend, and eating every type of food in the book. Home is having a sleeping system in the car down to vacation where your feet are at your cousin's head, and her feet are at yours. Home is full of inappropriate jokes and language, but non-stop laughing. It's a family that sticks together no matter what, and best friends that you can always count on, no matter how far away you are. Home is a feeling. It's knowing you are in the right place with people you love, who love you back. I don't have a house I call home, and that's okay -- because I have the best home in the world, and it's not going anywhere.
