Webster's dictionary defines home as "the place where one lives permanently," but what happens when you have two places that you kind of live in permanently? Your first trip home from college you realize that this place was always more than somewhere you grew up and spent your last days before the real world. Finally, there is an answer as to why mom gets so offended when you accidentally refer to your tiny dorm room on the third floor "home."

For as long as I can remember, "home" has been thought of as a house. It was where I drove when I got out of school, and where I slept at night on a regular basis. It supplied me with shelter and food, and it had three bedrooms, a creaky wooden floor, and pool table. Home was an object.

Following my first trip "home" from college, I realized that the thoughts I had on my residence did not do it justice. Home didn't just apply to the building I live within, as cliché as it sounds.

Home is the Friday night football game where the wide receiver barely catches the wobbly pass and scores a touchdown while every member of the town comes together as one big family to celebrate a win.

Home is your best friend's garage after the football game where you are a pool shark, DJ, professional dancer, and a philosopher all in one night.

Home is rolling around on the floor with your dogs (or cats if you're a cat) and promising never to abandon them again, even though you'll be leaving in a couple days.

Home is a typical night out with your best friends, whether it be an Olive Garden date, a night drive playing your favorite songs, or just a fire in a field where you remind everyone how much you love them.

Home is your mom shamelessly tearing up as you pack the car to leave, and your dad having you am assuring pat on the back that reminds you to make good choices.

Home is more than just a house. Home is where life happens.