"Home is where the heart is." Everyone has heard the saying and chances are they or someone they know has a sign hanging in their house stating something to that effect. But why is this sign so prevalent when all you hear is people saying that they can't wait to get out of their sleepy town where nothing ever happens? When you're young and still living at home, you tend to take for granted how great your home really is. Home is so much more than just the house you live in or the people who live there with you.

Home is where you feel the most comfortable. Even when you are grown and have your own home, there is just something about being in your old home that completely puts you at ease. You can leave home and go make a life for yourself someplace else, but all those memories you have will remain. Home will always be the place where you took your first steps or where you first learned to tie your shoes or even where you broke your arm. Your memories are one thing you can never erase. Someday when you have your own house and that house becomes your new "home," your memories will always subconsciously tie you back to that place to remind you where home really is.

Home is about family. For me, home will always be where my parents are. Home is more to me than the building we lived in because my parents are the ones who made our house a home. When I say i'm going home for the weekend, it means I get to see my parents, my grandparents, my aunt, and my little cousins. Home could move from a small street in Maine to some retirement home in Florida and it would still be what I consider home because family is and always will be home to me.

Home is about the lessons I have learned. All those time-outs for beating on my brother, all those late-night talks after a boy broke my heart, and all the times I got yelled at for cussing. All those moments that, at the time, I thought were the end of the world. All those lessons learned that made me who I am today were learned at home.

Home is where my first best friends are found. The one friend who was there for me every single night. The one friend that overheard all my conversations and never told on me. The one friend who always knew when I was feeling down and would comfort me. The one friend who I loved unconditionally from day one. My childhood pet.

Home is the backyard I always played in. Underneath the old apple tree we laid my very first dog to rest and on the now-rusty swing set I learned to pump my legs to get higher. The amount of time I played in the grass with my brothers and all the years pitching to my father are engrained into that ground. No other place could recreate the memories that took place on that grass.

Home is the cars in the driveway. My parents were never the type of people to buy new cars, so the rusty GMC parked out front was there as long as I was. It's not possible to count the amount of times that it picked me up after school and drove me to my basketball practices. I can remember the days when my father would do donuts to try to show off to us kids and I remember being yelled at for spilling food on the seats. Now that I am older and have my own car, I am no longer making those memories, so I hold on to the ones I have with that car parked out front.

Home is the unconditional love. The second you walk into your childhood home, you can just feel the love wrap around you. You associate the smell, the wall color and the people waiting for you with the loving memories you hold so close to your heart. When you think of home, you think of love.

For me, leaving home is just me going away to college. I have grown accustomed to my dorm room and I have added so many touches to make it homey. However, it will never be home. Home is where my parents are. Home is where my three cats cuddle together on my bed. Home is where our rusty pickup truck sits, and home is where all of my memories reside. No matter how hard I try to make my dorm room nice or no matter how much money I spend on a nice apartment or even when I buy my own house someday, my home, no matter where life takes me, will always be on that bumpy road, in that hick town in Maine.