Home. What do you think of when you hear that word?

I think of Forrest Gump quotes (my dad has one for literally every situation), Yoda impersonations, JELL-O poke cake for the Fourth of July, homemade birthday cakes with raspberry filling, hours spent making banana bread, nightly prayers with my parents at bedtime, Mario Kart with my little sister (I was so good at rainbow road), having my sister sleep in my room with me and staying up late talking in hushed whispers, my dad telling me jokes every night because I always begged for them (he's the funniest man I have ever known), hilarious stories about the new ways my dad and his co-worker/best friend trolled the people who called for IT help (those people deserved it, trust me), family dinners of mashed potatoes, sausage and creamed corn, late night games of Boggle with my dad (he was always so much better at it), days spent outside with the neighbor kids (playing truth or dare, what else?) and countless other memories of my growing up years.

For me, home has always been and always will be with my family. It's where I feel like I belong. I was the kid who would rather stay in and watch a movie with my parents than go somewhere with friends. As you can imagine, going off to college was a challenge for me. It still is. There are so many days where I miss being home so much that I feel immobilized. Leaving all that I've known, all that I've loved and felt loved by, is harder than I even imagined.

The times I get to come home for the weekend, winter break, or spring break are bliss. But at the same time, it isn't how it used to be. Sure, we still watch movies together, and there are a lot of impersonations and stories from my dad, and my sister still calls me "loser" to show her love and wants to play Xbox with me, and my mom still prays with me each night, but things have changed, too. It's wonderful to be back with my family, but it won't stay this way. It can't. And we all know it.

There's always a tinge of sadness in everything when I come home; At least for me, there is. My sister shows how much she misses me in the way she gets frustrated with me quicker than usual, and when she would rather not do anything with me at all because she knows that the time with me won't last. It's hard for her to face that, and it's hard for her to admit how sad she is that I'm not home, and so she shows it through anger. It's difficult for me, too. Coming home makes me realize that while there will always be a place for me here, it's not the exact same place.

I no longer know every detail of my family's lives. I don't know what they do on a day-to-day basis, and the new things they're involved with. Each time I come home, I have to catch up with them like I would with a friend I haven't seen in a while. It's a strange feeling. At times I feel like I don't really know my family anymore. At times I feel like I don't really belong at home anymore.

At the same time, I don't always feel like I belong at university, either. Making friends has always been difficult for me, so I haven't quite found my place at Union. I'm not a part of any group or organization, and I don't have people I go and do things with.

I don't always feel at home with my family, nor do I often feel at home at Union. Sometimes, I start to wonder where home really is. It can be easy to feel like I no longer have one.

I read something the other day that impacted my thoughts about this. "Home is not a place, it's what you carry with you in your heart." As I thought about this, I realized that home has become other things besides my family.

It is watching Netflix or vines on youtube with my roommate into the wee hours of the morning, it is playing with our cats in my dorm, it is going to swing dance class with my boyfriend, it is late night walks, it is breakfast at cobo with my best friend, it is texting my mother every day, it is the prayers she messages me, it is the goodnight and good morning texts, it is encouragement from my roommate when I'm crying and can't stop, it is tight hugs from those at Union who love me, it is sitting outside Barefoots and having lunch with new friends, it is supporting friends in a play, it is finding a new church that I love, it is who I am with and not where I am. It is the time I spend, no matter how short it may be, with those whom I love.

For all those who do not know where home is, I can only say that home is where you make it. It is not set and it will change. But trust me when I say that home can be found again.