karnerblue: Monterey sea lion (Default)
[personal profile] karnerblue
"Home is where the heart is." — Pliny the Elder

The more time goes by, the more I believe this to be true. After all, remember being in college, living on campus, and though you missed your parents' house at first, eventually, your mom would start yelling at you when you said you were eager to get back "home" after a weekend or a college break? More of your stuff might have been at your parents' house, but your heart, your happy times, the place you felt close to, that was on campus.

I feel like that more and more these days. It almost feels weird to call my parents' house "home" anymore. Sure, that's where most of my stuff is. And it's where I sleep during the work week. And it's where the cat is. But my heart doesn't feel like it's there anymore -- sometimes, it feels more like a motel or like a storage unit, a storage unit with a bed and a cat and my parents in it.

More often, I refer to my other home as home, the place I stay on weekends, the place where I'm most happy, where my heart is. It's not my mailing address, not where I pay rent, but it seems like home is more about feelings, sometimes, than legalities and formalities.

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karnerblue: Monterey sea lion (Default)
karnerblue

July 2012

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