Finding Home

I remember the day I arrived in San Francisco: one rolling suitcase, one bright green duffle bag and my yoga mat strapped over my back. I still laugh when I think about throwing my bed to the curb and patching up holes in the walls of my beloved apartment.  The drive from Cleveland to Buffalo was the longest three hours of my life; my car packed to the brim with the past six years of my life. I remember crying for half of that not-so-scenic drive, thinking of the people I was leaving behind and the memories and moments I had experienced over six of the most meaningful years of my life, at home, in Cleveland. If I ever wished to possess the power to teleport, this was the time. I wanted to get home, back to Buffalo, as quickly as possible. The drive seemed to never end.

As I drove to Buffalo I  wondered when the next time would be that I would make the oh-so-familiar trip home, and what "going home" would mean for me in a few years.

I arrived home and unpacked all of my things, only to repack them all over again. Home had become a very complex term in my heart; on one hand,  I was home quite literally. I was with my family and my friends; I walked down the street I grew up learning to ride my bike on and visited all of my "go to" places. I went to dinner with my grandparents, roamed my way through the aisles of Wegmans and felt okay being lazy, because hey, I was home. That's what we do when we're home; we relax, we unwind, we put things in perspective. I wondered when the next time would be that I felt at home, and for a moment I asked myself, "am I doing the right thing?

It has been five months since I drove from home to home and flew from home to new. People ask me everyday if San Francisco is starting to feel like home. I'm starting to realize that home often takes many forms.

As I pack my things, yet again, to move into a new apartment, I find myself thinking about home in a very different way than I once did. I take pieces of home with me everywhere I go, but growth has come in those moments when I see that home is simply about connection. I find home in the company I keep; the people that bring the light out of me, rather than those who dim it. I find home in the moments that turn my grin to a smile; home in the moments of laughter and in the moments of love.

Suddenly, I realize that I feel at home here in this amazing, vibrant city. I feel like my heart knows no limits and that I choose when and where I feel at home in every moment. Every new beginning is a chance to find home again; a chance to begin, a chance to let go and a chance to create a life of possibility.