Throughout my life, I have come to realize that home isn't simply the house you grew up in or the house your parents live in. Home isn't where your childhood trophies are or where your sisters still live. It isn't one of the 16 houses you've lived in growing up or simply one place forever. Home is more than that. Home is where you feel comfortable and where you feel loved and safe.

Home is the house in Pennsylvania, with the dog laying in the sun and a hole in my wall from eighth grade.

Home is driving down back roads with my best friends, belting out to music like a weirdo.

Home is the pool I've worked at for five years. With the children I've watched grow up, and the scratches on the bottom from my friends seven years ago.

Home is an apartment that still has its "Happy Fall" sign up, and where you can hear your roommate laugh between the floors.

My home is a couch surrounded by my best friends, yelling because Shonda was ruining our lives, again.

Home is in a kitchen, yelling at my roommate for not washing the dishes, only to not do them myself.

Home is on a basketball court, on a field, and in a swimming pool. Home is the athletic facilities where everyone knows my name and I can do whatever I want.

Home is the library, a coffee shop, or a classroom during finals. Home is making studying fun, and enjoying college to the fullest.

Home is in the passenger seat of a car on a way to the coffee shop, laughing and singing with the windows down.

Home is a cafe in Florence, where you can get comfort food and know every waiter by name.

Home is a classroom surrounded by my sisters laughing and making fun of each other. Home is that same classroom sharing all of our secrets and creating a bond that could never break.

Home is my family, my friends, and everyone I hold dear. My home is not one place and it is not fleeting. My home is everywhere and is always with me.