Home

Well, ladies and gentlemen, all good things must come to an end, mustn't they? As of tomorrow I've been back in the USA for one month, and I am finally settling into a new groove. Meaning my "two year sojourn" has thusly been completed. It's hard to believe we started this journey together just over 2 years ago, I feel like we've all grown from this experience, don't you? I successfully lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time, visited 5 countries, worked in New York City, made lots of new friends (young and old), wrote a thesis, finished a Master's degree, and now I'm starting a new adventure.

first and last pictures of me in Italy (an adventure that started with beer, ended in watermelon)

Talking with a couple good friends recently resulted in me trying to count the number of places I've lived/number of times I've moved in the past few years. After giving it some thought, I calculated that since 2009 I have lived in 4 different cities and changed residences over 10 times. That's in the past 3.5 years alone. This realization actually surprised me. It would appear that I am a nomad of sorts, master of suitcase maximization, collecting memories in place of objects, ready to start anew, energized by the idea of opportunity. Looking back, all of those transitions felt like natural progressions to new phases of experience. That's not to say they weren't difficult, I have struggled with change. But reflecting on these last few years has had me thinking about what "home" means to me.

Torino, Italy: Year 1

In general terms, I've always struggled with what one can consider their hometown - is that where you're born, where you grew up, or a place with which you have emotional connection? What if all of those are different places? Then I thought, is "home" a specific geographic location, a point on a map, a place with latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates? If you'd have asked me fifteen years ago what home meant to me, in my juvenile wisdom I'd have responded with the usual cliché, "it's where the heart is." Ten years ago high-school-me would've told you "it's where my mom is." Seven years ago, when I began college, I would've said "it's wherever my clothes are." Four years ago I would've said "home is my first big-girl apartment." But here's what the last few years (and 10 relocations) have taught me: home doesn't exist in one place, it's not a location, rather it's a state of belonging - a voluntary one, at that.

Torino, Italy: Year 2

Home doesn't exist within walls, in buildings, or in physical terms. You can return to a place you used to live and even if the material characteristics remain familiar, if it is empty of all previous ties/experiences/souls, then suddenly the place doesn't feel like "home" anymore. Even if buildings, houses, and towns bring about nostalgia, it is because those memories are linked to lived experiences. So this would suggest home is made by the presence of people and the emotional connections we attach to them. For me this was a kind of revelation. Home isn't a singular place to be pinpointed in our minds, not a particular house or street, it's a transitory, shifting state of being. 

New York, Spring 2012

Of the places I've lived in the past several years, I've been baffled by my ability to make a home in not just one, but in all of them. Allow me to list the places I've genuinely felt 'at home' in the past 2 years: both of my student apartments in Torino, my summer 2011 apartment with 3 Southern Italian engineers, my tiny room at Phyllis' apartment in New York City, my dad's place in Houston, my mom's place in Austin, and my summer 2012 apartment with a 40-something Italian couple.

Torino, Italy: Summer 2012

In essence, all my conceptions of home are linked with individuals (friends, family, new acquaintances that became great friends) and a voluntary state of belonging. It involves a lot of willingness to adapt, but home can be be absolutely anywhere, for any period of time. Given this, it would appear the old adage is true, albeit trite, that home is where the heart is. It's wherever my feet take me, wherever my loved ones are, wherever I choose to put down roots, make connections, encounter other souls, and seek out kindred spirits.

Ciao, Italia.

This blog has been a virtual home to my struggles and successes over the past two years. Thank you, everyone, for taking the journey with me. I look forward to sharing the next chapters with you, whatever those may be.

xoxo