You see it plastered all over home decor stores. It's on signs, in entryways, and the classic Hallmark card. Or rather, these days, it's probably being used as an Instagram caption or featured in an "inspirational" shared video on your feed.
"Home is where the heart is."
I've heard this phrase so many times throughout the years — as a child, teenager, and now as a young adult. Why? It's timeless. However, for something so ever-present, I can't be sure I've ever really understood the depth of it. I mean, sure, "Home is where the heart is." Of course, people find belongingness, security, and comfort when they are surrounded by the ones they love and the surroundings they are most attached to.
Up until this point in my life though, I've always had a secure, objective "home." Yet, now as a 20-something transitional college student, I'm starting to feel slightly homeless. Trust me, I am very appreciative of the life my parents are providing for me and I am by no means homeless in the literal sense. But like other college students, I've started to reevaluate my definition of "home."
The sad truth is my house no longer feels like my home. When I return for breaks, I feel like a guest in my own bedroom, living out of suitcases instead of a closet. I'm writing at the desk right now that I sat at for years and yet, I feel like I'm borrowing it for the moment. Each room feels different to me now than it did before. It's lost its comfortability, its "normal" ambiance.
Meanwhile, when I return back to my dorm room at school, I turn the corners of my hall and can feel the relaxed, welcomed feeling of being back. Yet, I turn the key, open the door, and again feel the disappointment of not having that "home" feeling. Like my house back home, the dorm room has that belonging feeling ... but you can be sure it does not have that true heartwarming feeling of a home.
As sad as this realization was, I've finally understood why "home is where the heart is." I've been searching for this "home" feeling in all the wrong places. In fact, I shouldn't have been looking for it in a place at all because you don't go "home" to a physical location.
At the end of the day, it's not the destination that is giving you that warm, fuzzy "I must be close to home" feeling. It's the people that fill that location with love, happiness, and memories. It's the people who bring that location to life. Home is with my silly parents and crazy brothers, with my adorably fat and lazy dog, with my family in both Hawaii and Arizona. Home is with my inspiring boyfriend, with my sweet best friend back home and my stubborn friends at school, with my goofy roommates.
Home is not a 2-story house, it's not a cramped dorm room, and it's not a city or state. Home is where the heart is ... because home is with the people who have your heart — the people who have filled vacant rooms and dots on a map with life, love, support, and comfort.
So you may move, you may start over, you may be anywhere in this world, caught between places, identifiers, trials and tribulations. But no matter what, you can always go home.
