I’ve been struggling with the concept of home for the past few weeks. I live in Chicago, but my family is all down here in Texas. My mom has just moved into a new house, my dad just got married and is living with his wife and two children, and even my sister has just gotten a new house. Hell, I’m even in the works of getting an apartment for next year with my two best friends.
With all of these new houses and living situations, the word “home” keeps popping up in my head. Where is my home? In a matter of months, I went from having one place to call home, to 3?! No longer is Mansfield, Texas my one and only abode.
Coming home from Chicago on breaks has been super weird the past few times I’ve been back. Going back and forth between parents is never fun because you never want to disappoint one parent by giving unequal time to one parent or the other. It’s hard to find a place called home when you’re constantly bouncing back and forth like you’re a freaking ping pong ball.
They say “home is where the heart is,” right? Well, I think I can safely say that my heart is in Chicago.
My heart is there. When I’m in Texas, I’m counting down the days when I can go back. It’s nothing about Texas that I dislike or anything, but it’s just my true yearning for a feeling of home that I have just lost when it comes to Texas. Of course, the people and the memories I have made here will forever be in my heart, but the feeling of home just is not anymore.
“Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.”
With all of that being said, I miss my home.
halliray 