"When I think of home, I think of a place where there is love overflowing..." - Lyrics from The Wiz, Home.
Personally, I have four homes. Ever since I've moved here I've been thinking about what makes a home, a home. Is it the memories? Is it the people? What is it? I think I figured it out. It's simple really, home is where ever your heart is. Home is where ever the people you love are, it's where the smallest of memories mean the world to you, it's where you will always return.
Long Beach is my home because it's where I grew up. Gossamer Street is my home because the people I love the most live on that street. My little green house is my home because it will be the place that I will always want to return. The little memories I hold onto so dearly, like all the hide and go seek games we played in the garage, or the Marco Polo games we played in the pool, or the times we snuck onto the roof to watch the sunset; those are the things that make my house my home.
Arizona is my home because it was a huge part of my childhood. Tierra Vida is my home because two of the people that mean the most to me live there. My rebuilt house is my home because thinking about it makes me so happy. The small details that I cling onto such as, my little orange room, the smell of my garage, the walk to my granparents house, the endless amount of card games stashed under the dresser, and even the steps down our front yard; these are what makes Arizona my home.
New Mexico is my home because it's where I found God. New Mexico is my home becuase it is where the people who have impacted me the most live. Zuni is my home because thinking about it makes all my worries go away. Gallup is my home because just the thought of it makes me smile. The memories and the people I love there make it my home, the little 5th and 6th graders who stubbornly learned our worship songs, the woman of the church I helped paint, little Moyah who peed his pants, all the songs I jammed out to on some of the longest road trips of my life, the pickle that Azalea gave me before I left, and people like Coye and his wife Shannon, Paul and his brother Glen, and Hayley, and the list goes on. Those people and those memories are what makes New Mexico my home.
Now the one that I am slowly figuring out is my home, San Francisco. San Francisco is my home because it's where I found myself. My little house on Santiago Street is my home because some of my best friends live there. As I walk up the steps to my door, I smile because I slowly feel this place become my home. The random little details are what makes this my home like, the walk to my bus stop, the little talks with my roommates before bed, the T.V. that I hardly watch, the stairs that I always fall down, and even the scarf rack. These little things that I feel becoming a part of my every day life are what makes this place my home.
Little things like this make me happy I'm alive. I can't wait to see what new homes become a part of me in the future.