Home

Home is an interesting concept. Some say “home is where the heart is” while others preach “home is where you hang your hat.” But I think there is a lot more to it. I just got back from a week visit back to the States, and it was so wonderful to be “home” for a little while. It got me thinking though, as I re-entered Trinidad, did I feel like I was coming back home? In a way I did, in a way I realized that even just after three short months, there is a part of this place that has become home.

College was different, it was more temporary. Even though I am only here for ten months and was at college for four years, there was something more temporary about it. You changed living arrangements each year, and then you practically moved out at Christmas, so really you changed your address every few months. Being back on SAU’s campus during my visit to the States felt comfortable, but not any more so than sitting at a Starbucks, one I’d never been to, with my best friends from school. So is it the place or is it the people that give the comfort? When I was in Iowa City at Brenton’s place, it wasn’t the uncomfortable futon that made being there so nice-it was the person sitting next to me. So it seems the more important aspect is the individuals that fill a space instead of its location. Home can be a group of people, no matter where they are.

My parents house no doubt felt like home though, there was no question about it. The smells, the sounds, everything was perfectly familiar and easy, warm and cozy. Our dog, Shaggy, sill laid in the same in-the-way spot in the kitchen, Bob and Tom poured out of the radio in the morning and the soap in the bathroom still smelled like Christmas. I think that no matter how old I am, I will always hold a piece of this house as home. The walls hold my high school memories; the kitchen stools are imprinted with countless conversations as my parents became more like friends; the floorboards remember my nervous or excited pacing.

But I think that home can be so many things and exist in different places all at once. It is a calming feeling, a memorable moment, something that you can make your own, put your stamp on. Here in Trinidad I’m more on my own then I ever have been before. My little one-room house is all mine and it too holds all the fear and excitement that has surrounded me. So there is a fraction of home that will always be found in this tiny room. Not because of the people or the smells or the familiarity, but because, as corny as may be, it was a place of self-discovery.

Here are some pictures from the plane, I think they are cool...they are New York, Chicago then Bloomington