The green two-story house on the right side of the street. The bright red door matching the location pin I dropped on the map on my phone. Roses by the sidewalk. I walk up the stone steps, fishing around in my bag for my keys. Unlocking the door and twisting the knob, my dog pushes past to greet me. Tail wagging, paws dancing, tongue trying to find any human surface to lick. The rest of my family joins the chaos shortly after and I'm washed away in a sea of hugs and screaming. I kick off my shoes and push them under the dining room table. I make my way up the hardwood stairs to my room. My dog is still following me. We both collapse on my bed and get swallowed up by soft sheets and six too many pillows. I finally get a chance to breathe. The house smells like whatever my mom is cooking, a TV is on somewhere, and the floor of my room is cluttered with whatever I left behind last time I visited.
This is home. This is my safe place, my neutral space, the one spot in the world where I can be entirely at ease. My beautiful house and all of the beautiful people in it could never be replaced. My family consists of five people and anyone who grew up in a big family knows how busy it can get. It's always loud, there's usually one or two people over at any given time, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. It's also the one thing that's been missing from my life all year. During my first year in college, I had to survive without home for a while. Everyone always tells you it's part of the growing up process - you have to leave the nest, blaze your own trail, find your place in the world. But that doesn't mean it sucks any less each time you have to leave. Reflecting on this past year, I've learned the value of home.
Home is a tricky concept. When you move out, you learn to transfer your meaning of home to a new place. For 18 years, home was my green house on the right side of the street. Next, home was my first dorm room. Then my second dorm room. We make home a new place in order to transition as smoothly as possible. But all of this moving makes it hard to feel comfortable. Now, with the school year over, I get my original home back. It feels so natural to come back to my old room and suddenly the world is back in balance.
My dog and I leave my room and head back downstairs. I almost immediately fall back into my normal routine. After a pretty rough year, I learned that no matter how far away I am or what I'm going through, home will always be there.
