Today, while I was buying a cheeseburger to help strengthen my wife's sanity, I heard a whisper from home. It was a confusing whisper, because I didn't know from where it had come. But didn't I just say that it came from home? Well, I don't know where my home is.
No, I'm not suffering from a bout of short term amnesia, this time. For me, home is a feeling of safety and joy. Home is eternally linked with the good ole days. But I've lived so many places and had so many fond memories I no longer know where to call my home. Is my home in Texas where I was born, or Oklahoma & Louisiana where I spent most of my formative childhood years? Perhaps it is in Arizona where I've lived longer than anywhere else or in California where I fell in love twice, met my wife, and got married.
Whenever someone asks me where I'm from, I don't have an answer. I don't have a home, I have many homes. Home is no longer a place for me, it is a feeling I take with me wherever I go. Where do you call home? What are the qualifications of home for you? Let me know if you have the time.
One man's never ending search for beauty and adventure, be it the Great Wall of China, a Broadway musical or fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
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Hmm, home. Sometimes you can only figure out where your home is when you're no longer there. I love the idea of home. But I've spent most of my life not feeling like I had one.
ReplyDeleteIt only took moving away from it twice, but now I think my home must be Arizona. How embarrassing. But I miss it. I want to go back.