I've always had a complicated relationship with the concept of "home."
I am someone who loves to travel, and start to feel stagnant if I stay in one place for too long.
And yet, one of the most distressing things for me is feeling untethered, like I don't have a place to call home. In my adult life, I've never truly made a home for myself. I've had apartments, sure, but none that replicate that feeling of warmth and safety that "coming home" used to produces.
Feeling at home, feeling grounded is so essential to me. Whenever I have reached a point in my life where I am lacking this feeling, I have always gone in search of it. This has taken me from New York to LA and back again...and back again, yet still that feeling has eluded me.
Lately, I've been thinking that I have not yet found my place to call home. I want to make my home where I feel completely comfortable, even if it means seriously changing my life. I don't want to spend the rest of my life living like I'm at a hotel where I don't quite trust the bedsheets have been fully cleaned. No, when I walk through the door, I want to breathe a sigh of relief. I want to lie down on my bed and feel a weight lift off my shoulders.
I'm still looking for that perfect home, but I feel it grower ever closer.