Home is not a place. Home is not a set of coordinates you can plug into a GPS, or an address you can scrawl on an envelope or a brown paper package. Home is not three metal numbers screwed onto the side of a mailbox. Home is not what you answer when someone asks you “where are you from?”, and you struggle to explain that the state you live now is not really the place you consider yourself “from”. Home is not the house where your parents live. Home is not the state that is boldly printed on your car’s license plate. Home is not the warm little house you grew up in that you haven’t seen outside of your memories in nine long years. Home is not where you go when you leave your friends and your dorm and your campus and your new life behind when it’s time for break. Home is not a place.
Home is people. Home is the group of friends you can always go to when you have a terrible day and just need to laugh. Home is your best friend from high school who has remained just as close to you despite 500 miles of distance separating you from her. Home is your roommate throwing blankets at you at midnight wanting you to stay up with her for just one more hour. Home is two hundred sisters who welcomed you in with open arms on bid celebration night. Home is your family anxiously waiting to pick you up from the airport after three months of being apart. Home is your little cousin who looks up to you as her role model and closest friend. Home is being wrapped in the arms of someone you love as you watch a movie together under fuzzy blankets. Home is not a place.
Home is a feeling. Home is knowing you have friends and family who love you dearly. Home is waking up in the morning feeling happy with your life. Home is finally tasting your grandma’s cooking after eating from dining halls every day for months. Home is feeling beautiful, even with bedhead, sweatpants, and no makeup. Home is feeling your heart swell as you sing with the congregation in church. Home is hearing your extended family at Christmas dinner tell you how happy they are that you found your place. Home is feeling your cheeks flush and the butterflies dance in your stomach as the cute boy you’ve eyed for weeks asks you if you’d like to get dinner with him. Home is looking around as your closest friends laugh together, and feeling so thankful that God brought you to these people. Home is stepping outside onto your campus and realizing that everything finally fell into place, and that this is where you are truly meant to be. This is home. Home is not a place.