view from the roof of my college home in Mission Beach, California
When I think of home, I can't help but replay that Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros song in my mind that notoriously gets stuck in your head. The one you want to hate but secretly, you like it because of the precious lyrics, that read, "home is where ever I'm with you." Awwwwweee! My problem? I've never been sure who that "you" is. However, I'm starting to believe that "you" isn't just one person but several people... and I think it took me a while to realize that. I think that "you" is my parents and extended family; my friends who have come and gone and my friends who will be in my life forever. "You" is my roommate; my neighbors; my favorite co-workers; the bartenders at URBN. "You" is the endearing homeless man around the corner; the snow leopard cat a few houses down that I really want to catnap; the friendly faces at my neighborhood coffee/tea shop and take-out restaurants. The list goes on.
I've come to believe that home isn't a place but a feeling. It's the feeling you get when you're in the presence of someone special, whether it be a friend, family member, the love of your life or a friendly stranger. It's having that comfortable feeling of ease where you're blissfully content without all of the frills. And it's surrounding yourself with "yous" who complete your own, personal feeling of home.