home is not a place
I took this a few years ago when I was just a tourist in NYC. I thought moving here would make me feel like I was home. And in the conventional sense, I guess it did.
As I prepare to leave, I've started thinking about what "home" really means. For many of us, it's where we grew up and played and learned right from wrong. It's the place we left when we felt ready to explore and learn more. It's where we returned for celebrations and mourning. Home is a pin drop.
For many of us, there will always be that place we think of as our original home, but it’s not the only home we have. It's as much a physical place as it is a spiritual one.
When we can't find home on a map, we find it in the people who give us safety, reassurance, and support we seek. We find it in those who we love and who love us--the ones we run to whenever we need comfort and support. Maybe we haven't seen them in a long time; maybe we haven't met them yet...
Home is the people we know in the places we don’t.