Today after work all I wanted to do was go home.
But I don’t know where that is.
I have a small apartment here in Auburn where I have my computer and a few random essentials. But when I think of the concept of home, I don’t think of these bare white walls and matching Venetian blinds.
When I think of home I guess my first instinct is to think of Garrett, the city I grew up in and where the majority of my family is. But I don’t know. Garrett doesn’t feel like home, either. Kind of like an old pair of shoes that you loved, but are now a half-size too small. You want to wear them, you want to feel that comfortableness…but after some time, you’re going to have to face the fact they just don’t fit.
Other geographical places I think of when I think of home are California and New York. But I wonder if I only think of California so fondly because it’s the first place I lived when I left home and did a lot of growing up and experiencing life there. I have some great, great memories there. The big city. A million opportunities. Meeting a great friend. Just having a great time.
But do memories alone make a home?
As much as I love New York, the main reason I think of it as home is because of the friends I have there from the National Comedy Theatre. I’ve never had such a huge circle of friends that consisted of so many genuinely wonderful people chasing the exact same dream as me (or something very close to it). The city has a lot to offer, but if my buddies all moved away, I know I probably wouldn’t think of it as home. I don’t think of New York as home. I think of the people there.
So perhaps home isn’t a physical place but a state of mind. If that’s the case, then Lancaster PA and Atlanta GA are homes. As a cities and places, I wasn’t their biggest fan. But the people I met in those places are lifelong friends whom I adore and they made it into something like a home.
I’d like to be home. I want to be home. I just don’t know how to get there or even where it is, for that matter. I’ve had this intense longing for a home for the past week or so and it’s been a heavy load.
I remember reading interviews about the late singer Rich Mullins. A lot of his close friends said that just before he died in a tragic car accident, he was very restless, looking for a home…basically in a similar place I am right now.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I think my time is almost up. I’m just saying someone else was seeking the same think I am seeking now, and I think he found it. The question of the hour is: