Its a strange time of year when I prepare to pack up my possessions and leave home to go...to my other home? I remember franticly putting what seemed to be my whole life into boxes before my freshman year of college prior to moving away from the place I was born and raised, the place where my family and friends were, the place I loved, and the place I called home. As my parents and I drove away that day, I remember feeling numb - not happy, not sad, not excited, not scared (or maybe I was just too happy, sad, excited and scared that I couldn't feel any of them) - and my dad told me that in a few months, Bozeman wouldn't feel like home anymore and that in a few years, Seattle would feel like home. It took less time than I anticipated for this to become true. I was thrilled and overjoyed to be home for Thanksgiving and for Christmas, but nothing was the same. It was wonderful to catch up with high school friends, but all the while, I missed my college friends. Throughout the years, the pattern has continued. Each time I return to Bozeman, a little piece of me is missing that can only be found in Seattle.
The cities of Bozeman and Seattle are near and dear to my heart and they both hold a very special place. Yes, its the landscape; its those quiet and peaceful mountains and rivers and spaces that Bozeman has to offer, and its the busy and bustling sounds of downtown Seattle and the aroma of salt water and the crisp west coast air. But, its also the people; its my parents and brothers and the friends I grew up with (who feel more like sisters), its the friends I've met who come from places as different from my hometown as they come. It seems almost as though the cliche saying, "home is where the heart is," is true. In that saying is where I get lost in the mucky waters of confusion and perplexity. My heart is in so many places. It is, of course, with my family in MT, my friends in WA, and other friends and relatives located all over the country. But, my heart is in other places around the world too. It is in the Philippines with the beautiful orphans who have blessed and touched my life more than they will ever know. It is in Vietnam with the friends I made amidst the language barrier, who taught me that laughing and loving need no spoken or written language, as they speak for themselves. It is in India with the neglected and orphaned children, the friends, teachers, mentors and role models that have impacted who I am as a person in more ways than one.
So, I guess, as I sit here in my living room at home, trying to determine where home actually is, I have yet to find an answer. Maybe home can be wherever I want it to be, where I can see the landscapes that make my heart smile, where I can feel the warm embrace of those whom I love, where my nostrils are filled with those familiar aromas that bring happiness, where I recognize the noises around me, and where I can fill my stomach with foods that bring flooding back memories. Maybe home will be continually changing throughout my life. Maybe home, to me, will always be in more places than one. Or, maybe, I can't fully grasp "home," because someday, I truly will be home, in a home that is perfect, a home with a family that is forever and a Father who holds the world in His hands. So maybe home isn't something to be fully understood until that day, when I finally get there. And when I do, I believe, without a doubt, that I will truly be home, and there will be no doubt in my mind that I have found a place that is home.
The cities of Bozeman and Seattle are near and dear to my heart and they both hold a very special place. Yes, its the landscape; its those quiet and peaceful mountains and rivers and spaces that Bozeman has to offer, and its the busy and bustling sounds of downtown Seattle and the aroma of salt water and the crisp west coast air. But, its also the people; its my parents and brothers and the friends I grew up with (who feel more like sisters), its the friends I've met who come from places as different from my hometown as they come. It seems almost as though the cliche saying, "home is where the heart is," is true. In that saying is where I get lost in the mucky waters of confusion and perplexity. My heart is in so many places. It is, of course, with my family in MT, my friends in WA, and other friends and relatives located all over the country. But, my heart is in other places around the world too. It is in the Philippines with the beautiful orphans who have blessed and touched my life more than they will ever know. It is in Vietnam with the friends I made amidst the language barrier, who taught me that laughing and loving need no spoken or written language, as they speak for themselves. It is in India with the neglected and orphaned children, the friends, teachers, mentors and role models that have impacted who I am as a person in more ways than one.
So, I guess, as I sit here in my living room at home, trying to determine where home actually is, I have yet to find an answer. Maybe home can be wherever I want it to be, where I can see the landscapes that make my heart smile, where I can feel the warm embrace of those whom I love, where my nostrils are filled with those familiar aromas that bring happiness, where I recognize the noises around me, and where I can fill my stomach with foods that bring flooding back memories. Maybe home will be continually changing throughout my life. Maybe home, to me, will always be in more places than one. Or, maybe, I can't fully grasp "home," because someday, I truly will be home, in a home that is perfect, a home with a family that is forever and a Father who holds the world in His hands. So maybe home isn't something to be fully understood until that day, when I finally get there. And when I do, I believe, without a doubt, that I will truly be home, and there will be no doubt in my mind that I have found a place that is home.
