What is it about the places we call home? What makes them so special? Maybe it's partly because of the security we get when we're there. The world can be a pretty aggressive place and our home is a kind of sanctuary from everything that's out there. For each person though home can mean different things. In some cases it's a specific geographical location that feels the most comfortable. For others it's not a physical location, but rather an individual that creates that center of security. No matter where in the world you are, as long as you're with that person then you feel at home. There is also another version of home, one that can be a lot more elusive. It's the one that doesn't matter where you are or who you're with. Where you are in life feels exactly right and home is more of a state of mind. Maybe it's always a state of mind, it's just different for each of us.
They say you can never go home again. At least not back to the place you used to call home. I wonder though if there is some kind of cutoff for that. Maybe there is a certain window of time where, if you wanted, you could return home without it being vastly different than you remember. I guess the real question is why can't we go home again? Is it because we've outgrown the place where we were young? Maybe the place has outgrown us. Maybe nothing has physically changed, but our perception of what home has been altered while we were away. People can be lumped into a few categories when it comes to leaving home. There are those who never leave. They have no desire to leave what they know. There isn't anything wrong with this. If you know what you like and it's been working for you then it may seem silly to leave it behind for that unknown something else. Then there are others who see this as though you've been eating vanilla ice cream your whole life. Then one day someone reveals to you that you could have any flavor you want, you only have to pick. These are the people who, while they may like vanilla ice cream, decide that they're going to try something else out. So they leave home to try out what life is like elsewhere. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they stay away. For those that leave home becomes some place different than for those who decide to stay.
Growing up I only really lived in one place. My parents lived in the same house for over thirty years and before it was built we lived in a couple different apartments, but they were for a relatively short time. So my idea of home is that of a singular location. Before I left for college I knew home had become too small for me. It would have been easy to stay because it was comfortable, but for my long term happiness I had to leave. Once I was away I realized just how big the world was. I still loved my family and where I grew up, but it stopped being my real home the moment I left. It's strange though because after I moved out to go to college I tended to keep on the move a lot more. Since leaving home I've lived in ten different places. I wonder if part of that comes from knowing that no apartment is going to match what I think of as home and don't put a lot of stock into the various places I hang my hat. On the flip side I've known people who moved around a lot when they were younger so when the reached adulthood they purchased a home that they could call their own. It was a place that wouldn't change and would hopefully provide stability that they didn't get growing up. Coming back to visit was strange because everything seemed the same, but I was now different, even if only slightly. I had an apartment of my own near the college, but it wasn't really my home. It was just my apartment and a place to store my stuff. My parents' house wasn't my home anymore either. I had become one without a real home.
I have this picture of home in my head. It's not where I used to live when I was young. It's also not where I live now. That is to say it's obviously not my current living situation, but also my general location within the world. I'm not exactly sure where home is though. The picture in my head doesn't come with GPS coordinates. I wonder if other people have this same somewhat vague notion of where they feel they belong and until they find it, everything feels like a journey towards it. So I've been wandering through the world looking for that moment when I feel like I've come home. As we find out when we leave home and come back, things don't look the same as they did when we left. Either we've changed or the place we remember has. It makes what looks familiar on the surface unfamiliar when we take a closer look. I only hope that I recognize it after being away for so long.
