HomeMonday, 28 November 2016
I've been thinking a lot about where or what home is for me recently. I grew up in London and although I moved further a field when I was 19 I still refer to that dodgy part of the west, home. Every time I go back be that passing through or seeing a friend everything is familiar that I almost feel like a teenager again from the shortcuts to get to my old school, the spots where we definitely drank too much when we were 16 and the one shop that changed every week in the high street.
As much as I love where I live now it doesn't feel like home. Sure, it's "home" in the sense of it's where my family are but I have no real connections with it as it's not the place where I grew up.
I asked you on twitter what you thought of when you heard the word and I got an mix of responses...
@giilliiaann nowhere and everywhere
@rhiannonmay__ my mum and/or blankets and fairy lights
@whoisclare a place with my own bed and where I can happily stay in pyjamas all day long
First off, it's my family and it always will be. It's also the people I can be unapologetically myself around, the people who can take the good, bad and the ugly. It's the people that make me laugh and feel the most comfortable with. The people who can take my weirdness, my odd sense of humour and ridiculousness. It's the people who genuinely give a shit and to quote the pop queen, Kelly Clarkson, my life would suck without them. It's all the wonderful and sometimes questionable memories I'm collecting and making and will continue to keep making and look back on with nothing but a cheesy grin on my face and where your heart does that feely thing.
Maybe one day when I finally have that apartment or house I've always been dreaming of, that will become my sense of home which can be filled with all of the above but for right now, I'm content with who and what I define as my home.