When Home Isn’t A Place

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Guillaume Bolduc / Unsplash

Some people would say that I have commitment issues. Some people might not be too far off target.

I have this thing where I like to travel, force my friendship upon others, and then leave. It’s kind of like “ding-dong-ditching” but with more emotions involved. It’s not like I mean to do it, but I just can’t help but be curious of what my next step might be– what might be lurking around the next corner.

So when I come into your life, please don’t take it personally. Please don’t be hurt by my actions; by me making a home in your heart and then packing up all of my belongings and vanishing- as if I had never been there to begin with.

I have learned throughout the years that a home is not a place built out of wood, bricks, and nails. Home is a place with people, experiences, laughter, heartbreak, joy, and non-expectations. So when I make my home in you, please just let me in. I am looking for warmth among your embers and your smile as a bed.

And please, don’t think that it is easy for me to leave you. Leaving is one of the greatest sorrows and regrets I have ever known. Because you may be the most comfortable home I have ever visited. You may bake cookies and give me wine and make me laugh until my stomach is sore and I cannot feel my cheeks- but my home existed in those moments, and moments don’t last forever.

I wear our memories on my sleeve like paintings on a wall. I soak in our laughter like sun-soaked curtains on a bright afternoon. I recall your voice in my head like a record player stuck on repeat. You consume me, and I will be forever grateful that you opened your heart just enough for me to fill it with my crazy obsessions of Hamilton, naked women portraits, jalapeno Cheetos, and flowers.

So, forgive me when I make a new home. It’s nothing personal, it’s just what my heart knows. It needs change and it needs to run as freely as it can while it still can. I need you to know that a piece of me will always be with you, but it needs to find laughter in other time zones. I need to experience what it is like to be truly me before I can ever be truly at home. Because, how can you figure out where you want to be for the rest of your life if you haven’t been everywhere?

I don’t know, maybe it’s the commitment issues talking, but I am going to keep listening to that voice; the voice that drives me away from places of comfort and into the unknown. Maybe one day I’ll find someone who wants to tag along for the ride, or maybe one day I’ll finally find a home that tells me to “stay… enjoy yourself.. unwind… make a home out of me.” And who knows, maybe I’ll listen. TC mark

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