Every once in awhile I start thinking about the idea of "home." With four moves under my belt (six if you count the moves my parents made), I've gotten used to the idea of being a bit more transitory and not necessarily having that one childhood friend who I've been able to hang out with since I've been five. But as I've gotten older, "grown up," and started changing my residency and taking my location into my own hands, the idea of home is starting to get more complicated.
At the moment, I'm in southern California, in the midst of training for summer camp. I am with people who I haven't seen for three years, but with whom I feel I can catch up with relatively quickly. And while I know that I belong, I am also homesick for Washington. But where is my home in Washington? All of my possessions, minus a few bags, are stacked in a 5x10 storage unit. The bags are stuffed into the closet at my boyfriend's. Though I have now signed a lease, I won't be moved into my apartment - which I have not yet seen - until September.
Because I have spent the past six years at least 1500 miles from my parents, I've considered home to be where my friends are. But my friends are in Washington, and Minnesota, and Oregon, and California, and Texas, and my parents are in New York. Though I'm happy, and searching, and comfortable with some of the unknown, I'm starting to feel adrift.
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