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September 13, 2020

This is What I Call Home.


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In my lifetime, I have had multiple homes.

No not quite in the literal sense, I am not an adventerous backpacker, nor am I some high-flying executive who moves from one country to another pitching away ideas.

I’m an average girl next door, moving through a fleeting life and fighting through struggles. I tend to make homes in people, in small closed spaces, and sometimes even in a dream.

Home for me will always be a feeling, a place of sheer evolution, a place or a person who lets me discover who I am and get absolutely raw and sincere in my personal journey.

When it comes to brick and mortar as a home, I have to say the most priceless home I have found in a physical sense is my parents’ home. A place I’ve lived for decades. A place which has seen me at my best and at my worst. The walls there know me like my own skin. Every step taken there had a story. Every day and night spent there had a purpose. You don’t forget places that have been your shelter so easily.

But we can’t always depend on one shelter, can we?

I have made homes in places I’ve worked or stayed in briefly. Places that have made me question my own worth and have thrown me life’s toughest challenges. Places that command and demand. I will always cherish these homes that have driven me to self-reflect and become a better version of myself.

Home is a feeling. This is true for me in every sense; the feeling of friendship, love, and acceptance. Such homes are beautiful to have and live in. You can immerse yourself in the sheer positivity of these places. My homes are beautiful relationships I’ve had with myself, they are my essence.

I cannot imagine what I would go back to at the end of the day if I didn’t have my parents’ acceptance, or my friends’ support, or my partner’s love.

One of the most awaited versions of home is that of my dream home. A home that I will make for myself where there will only be light, love, and the fullness of life. Where struggles are building blocks, and opportunities are only the next stepping stone.

A home where I will always burn the dinner and my husband will save the day by whipping up something edible. A home where I can be my goofy self making my family laugh. A home where walls just have beautiful pictures and memories. A home where we will never have to hide or make ourselves small.

So, home is so many things and many people for me. But mostly, home is the place I go to every night—and I can just be grateful.

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