The idea of home is a bizarre concept to me. I always thought that home was a place that you went to for school break or returned to when you need Mom to do your laundry or make you actual food. But when I went to school I found myself confused by what I thought home was. I met people I felt I belonged to utterly, completely, fully. It confused me and concerned me that I felt this way with multiple people and places. It happened again when I studied abroad and I felt a longing down in my soul and grief that I didn't know when I would return to cities such as London and Berlin again.
I always believed that home was the place I grew up and no more. I thought it was the place I had grown up and spent most of my life. But I've realized over the past year that home is not just that at all.
Home is my University where I've had heartbreaks and the best nights of my life. It is where I met my sorority sisters who changed my life for the better. I've met my best friends, my suite mates who I wouldn't trade for the world. With these people I feel understood completely and fully. They are the people I place my trust in and experience all of the ups and downs of life with. From drunken nights to watching Vine compilations, I wouldn't change anything that we've experienced together as friends and sisters.
Home is also the people I've met at school and on my travels. It's the people who I met at the bar in Paris or spent four months getting to know as I studied abroad. They all contribute to my memories and to who I am today.
That's what I think another version of home can be. I think home can even be the people you've known for only a night yet they change your life forever even in the most minuscule ways. They are the people you hold in your heart and you smile about even years after you've parted ways.
In that, I'm grateful for all of them. The passing strangers I've met on my travels and the girls who will one day be my bridesmaids. You are all my home; ever changing in life but always still in my heart.