Let me start this off by saying that I have lived in the same house in the same town for my entire life. My dad, on the other hand, has not lived in the same house with me my entire life.

He left when I was about seven, and for the past 11 years, he has lived elsewhere. In fact, for the greater part of those years, he's lived in different states.

And as much as I hated this when I was younger since I only got to see him twice a year, I look back now and I can actually appreciate the places he has lived.

First, after he left, it was North Carolina. He lived down with my aunt who was there for a while until he found a roommate and they got an apartment in Raleigh.

I absolutely loved the Raleigh/Durham area. And while I only got to see it twice a year--spring break and two weeks in the summer--I loved having a pool to go to every single day I was there.

I loved the traffic around there and the rush of life that is Downtown Raleigh. We'd go to baseball games every single trip and would always end up at MoJoe's Burger Joint or Mellow Mushroom.

Even though it was crazy hot and I came back from every trip completely sunburned, North Carolina has a special place in my heart, and there's some part of me that will call it a "home."

He moved around that area for a while, going to about three different apartments--all on the third floor with no elevator--for about seven years before he moved back to Ohio.

A farm in Ohio, to be exact. Even though it wasn't my area of Ohio and it was a few hours away, I loved our farm.

He moved back up here because his roommate from Raleigh got a job in New York City. So when the offer came for my dad to get another roommate a bit closer to his family, my dad took it.

Our farm had an in-ground pool, three acres, goats, alpacas and two Great Pyrenees dogs to herd them. It was the first place where I had a room to myself that I could paint and leave clothes at for my next visit.

This was my second home, I could feel it in my heart.

I was so ecstatic to finally have a place I knew he wasn't going to move from.

The town was small, about 10 minutes from Cambridge, Ohio, but I loved the small town life. I've always loved the feeling of being "country" as part of growing up in a family that hunts.

So when I got the chance to wear boots, work on a farm and be a part of the everybody-knows-everybody flow, it felt natural. I felt like I belonged there.

Not only that, for the first time since I was six years old, I was seeing my dad more than twice a year. I saw him nearly every other weekend, and he'd even pick me up from school some Fridays!

I had put my heart into this place and called it a home.

That didn't last very long, though. I think he was up here for maybe a little over a year before he got a job in Central Park.

And wouldn't you know, the only reason he went to the interview was that I wanted to go to a concert in NYC (the same weekend of the interview that I didn't know about) and his old roommate lived there, having a place for us to stay.

Central Park was a great opportunity. No matter how much I loved our farm and my small town life on the weekends, I couldn't be selfish and force him to stay here for me when his dream was at his fingertips.

And though "working at Central Park" wasn't his exact dream per say, going from working at a small business in North Carolina to just being a farmhand, being a supervisor in one of the most visited parks in the world wasn't bad.

I loved visiting New York.

I loved visiting even before he lived there, and we just went to see his old roommate. A few months after his interview, he was all packed up and moving once again--something I really didn't think he'd do anymore--and moved up to New York to once again live with his old roommate.

Now we're back to only seeing each other a few times of the year. It's more than it was in North Carolina but not nearly as much as from when he was at our farm.

Honestly, though, New York isn't horrible. I have an excuse to go when I want to, and I don't feel like a tourist anymore.

There's a tiny part of me that feels like a New Yorker.

Plus, spending all day in Central Park with my dad while he works isn't horrible either. (I suggest sitting on the rocks by the Meer off of E 106th and 5th Ave at 9 AM as the sun settles over the city...breathtaking.)

And though I have had the same address my entire life, I have found home in more places than one. I have found a home in my house, in Raleigh, North Carolina, on a farm in Southern Ohio and in New York City, all thanks to my father's many moves.