i don't know if this is home.
what constitutes as home for people? where you grew up, spent most of your childhood years, Where your family still lives, where your worst and best memories have happened?
is going home’ traveling in a plane, in a car, walking down the street or just staying where you are?
is it going to multiple places? because i think of myself as a composition of the places that i've lived, people that have been a part of my life, the paths that hold my emotions in them. i'm not bound to so many physical places, but a few now that all feel as home.
i think you're a composition of these places and people you come across in your life. you learn this as you grow up. the phrases and words people say. things they feel. the places they like. these things you associate with your memory of those places. so of course they all become an integral part of you.
some of those pieces and place might seem harder now. like something you don't want to acknowledge. for me it's more my subconscious filled those feelings away in a cabinet. some memories you associate with a certain ‘home’ that you don’t wish to dig up, situations you’d rather opt out of. i’m sure we all do this in one way or another, find only the best part of people and places and latch onto them with all our strength. but it’s those other things, those other moments that are actually the most impactful, the ones that shape us. even though we want nothing more than to remember the sunny warm days on the beach, somehow there’s a lingering moment of truth that want’s to seep through those perfectly crafted memories and spread itself onto those highlight reels.
every place we consider home or a part of us has this certain bucket of discarded memories if you will. our ‘home’ has been molded by us to be just the most picturesque pieces compiled into one memory box, the others actively shoved down to the bottom. but right now, for me, after four years in a place that some people can’t stand for even a weekend, i feel at peace. with the ups and the downs, tears, seasonal depression, moving, new friends, friends who’ve grown apart, amazing late night dinners where drinks carried us into the morning, new jobs. the loud obnoxious city & the cool night breeze of fall. a heart so full and a heart so broken. all of these things have been encompassed inside of the walls of this concrete jungle, and i wouldn’t for a second think of shutting out the pain or memories that weren’t nice enough to share on social media. instead i’ve grown to try and welcome them. because they’re the real MVP. those memories and emotions are the reasons we stay, the reasons we fight for what and who we want, the reasons we can get up in the morning is that we know despite those memories we carry with us, there are others to be made. those fuel us into the next day, the next month, the next chapter of our lives.
maybe this is far too deep for a saturday morning, or maybe it’s just enough.
happy 4 years to a place I am so fortunate to call as one of my homes.
i am enamored by you new york.