I believe there comes a time in everyone's life when we stop and question what the true meaning of home is. As I sat down a few nights ago to watch "Brooklyn" for the third time with my friends who had not seen it before, I realized that that very time has now come for me.

Three weeks ago, I completed my freshmen year of college, found a solid group of friends, enjoyed experiences I know I will never forget and have fallen in love with my school at Franciscan University. Somewhere between the emotional breakdowns in the beginning of the year from unbearable homesickness, and my departing school with a heavy heart, I found a new home much like Eilis Lacey from the movie "Brooklyn." For those who have yet to see the movie or read the book that it was adapted from, let me give you a little rundown of the plot without spoiling too much.

Basically, Eilis (pronounced like "A-lish" ) is a young girl living in Ireland in the 1950s. In order to find work and a better life for herself, she moves to America with the help of a Catholic priest. Within the first few months, Eilis has a hard time adjusting to this different way of life and experiences terrible homesickness, making her regret the decision to immigrate in the first place. Despite the rocky start, she learns to love her new home in Brooklyn, New York, which is largely the cause of meeting and falling in love with an Italian man named Tony. Just as Eilis starts to feel a sense of belonging, tragedy in the family strikes and she must abruptly return to Ireland. The beautiful Irish town that Eilis grew up in tugs at her heart and the sentimental love for her hometown returns, making Eilis question where her true home lies. She is left to choose between her old life in Ireland and her new life in Brooklyn.

Though I had seen "Brooklyn" twice before, this time around I was struck in a completely different way. While my friends shouted at the TV, frustrated by the fact that Eilis was procrastinating her return to America, I sat in silence. I said absolutely nothing because at that moment it dawned on me that I am Eilis Lacey — I

left home to find a new life for myself, only to be met with loneliness and homesickness. I found my groove and made lasting relationships with people I now love dearly. I felt happy and complete with the new life I made and even became comfortable with calling it my home. Then I left it all. I came back to the the town I've spent my entire life living in and the people I've spent my entire life being with. I am now swept up in lovely memories of the past, and I feel the new home I made for myself at Franciscan slipping away. But why? Do I only have room in my heart for one home? Is home simply a matter of where I am physically located in the current moment? But more than anything else, what is home? My identity crisis of home was fully realized, and thus I sit here three days later reflecting on my dysphoria.

To be honest, I still don't completely know. Maybe as I walk through life I'll have some big revelation about the answer but it hasn't happened yet. Up to this point, I would have said that home is the place where you permanently live. Now I'm thinking that it has more to do with the places where I've lived in community, grown as a person, shared experiences with others and even made some new ones for myself. In that case, I suppose I have many homes. In all of this confusion, however, I am sure of one thing: I have one true home, an eternal home with my God in heaven. With so much inconstancy in my life, I can rest assured knowing that someday, I will truly belong because I will live in the very place I was created to be in. So I guess these many homes in this life are just temporary vessels which bring me to my permanent home. Maybe it's that simple fact which summarizes all other meanings of home.