Six months of school is a long time. The time has come to enjoy graduations, weddings, and cookouts; a plethora of other social gatherings where ever you choose to travel in the world. As I reflect on where I have been this year, I am grateful for God's blessings and reminded of why I love coming home as I await to return each summer. Home is where I can be free of guilt to do the laziest and the darnedest things. What do you think of when you reflect on the place you call home? Although it has been a short and sweet two years, homecoming for the summer never gets old in the Motor City.
As you may have guessed from the nicknames, my home is Detroit, Michigan, the home of Motown musical greats such as Diana Ross, Gladys Knight, and Michael Jackson. Home is the tiny suburb of Redford nestled in between the border of downtown Detroit and the larger suburb of Livonia. Home is coming back to the sights and sounds that you know so well, but left alone for nearly six months at a time. Home is recognizing the street lights that are broken at night, yet seeing the inevitable glitz and glamour within each child's eyes glisten through its challenges of financial debt, urban decay, and substandard public schools.
Within each pocket and corridor of the city, there are aspiring doctors, lawyers, and those with the right opportunities are the next innovative entrepreneurs, inventors and change agents. My home is where leaders who will revitalize neighborhoods and communities all around the city of Detroit are slowly but surely rising. Home is recognizing the 10 story buildings that are uniquely Detroit such as Joe Louis Arena, the Tiger's Stadium, MGM Casino, and the Renaissance. Home is basking in the glory of 85 degree weather, cruising on the Detroit Princess along the riverfront that lines the Canadian border.
Home is coming back exhausted from a three hour road trip with the sentiments of sleeping in my own bed. It is returning to the smell of fresh lavender infused into my fresh linens and bed sheets. Home is recognizing the the sound of rice pots, the smell of beans and gravy on Saturday mornings, and waking up to the sound of my father's booming call to get dressed for church, smell of plantains, fried eggs, sausage, and cassava on Sunday mornings.
Home is the smell of sandalwood permeating the air, masking the smell of bleach and laundry detergent after a long day of cleaning and housework. For me this is home. Home is the place that doesn't compare to any place in the world. You may long for a vacation or some time away. Yet, soon enough you will feel nostalgia wishing you had stayed.
Whether there is family or friends nearby, you'll want to return home to build many more memories with the ones you love time and time again. There is no place like home. For nothing can compare to eating Mommy's home cooking. My home is knowing that Liberian food can beat Huffman and Curtis Dining any day.
There is nothing like seeing the smile on my baby cousins' faces. There is beauty in the simplicity of life.There is nothing that compares to their childish joy and laughter immersed in innocence. Nothing compares to the freedom I enjoy when I am home. The freedom to watch Netflix without the guilt. The freedom to chill with my best friend, A.K.A. my mom without the guilt. I can laugh, dance, and sing without the guilt. I can stay up late without the guilt. And most of all, I can eat without the guilt. For there is nothing like hanging out with my friends under the oak trees in the backyard with the smell of smoky barbecued pork ribs, roasted corn, hot dogs, and Neapolitan ice cream.
Home is where my heart is because I am authentic, guilt free, and the best version of myself. Home is where I will be until the start of a new year. Where nostalgia will come when I am away once again and I'll see myself growing into a new individual once again.
