home is where the heart is

back from being "home home" for easter.  in college, we would say "home" to mean whatever dorm, suite, or apartment we were living in that year. but "home home" meant our real home.  the place where our parents were, the place where we grew up, the place where we returned each winter or summer break.

sadly, "home home" is starting to fade from my vocabulary.  7 years have somehow passed since i finished college, and in that 7 years, i've built another home in atlanta.  i became an adult, landed a job, and bought my own place.  and as much as i miss my parents, i don't exactly miss being back in their house.  now when i visit charleston, i'm jarred awake in the morning by my dad's loud footsteps and my mom's banging pots and pans in the kitchen.  my back hurts from sleeping in a different bed.  i live out of a suitcase.  atlanta gets hot and humid, but charleston makes you feel like you're breathing in water.  and honestly, i miss sweets.  my parents' idea of dessert is a plate of fruit. 

but i love us.  i love my loud, chaotic, messy, and perpetually late family.  family dinners are loud.  we talk over one another.  we argue.  we laugh.  we tease.  we annoy.  but in the end, there's no other place where i am most at ease.  my family knows all the good, the bad, and the ugly.  no one else knows me from beginning to end.  and more importantly, no one else accepts me and loves me, from beginning to end, like my family.  

home is never a physical building.  home is never what i bought or what i set up on my own.  home is who i run to at the end of a long day full of problems and issues.  home is who i call to break exciting news.  home is who i rely on and who relies on me.

home is where my heart is.