I’m at a family friend’s house for the weekend. Just because I wanted a break from college.
They feel like family. And this feels like home.
Like home, where I can wake up in the morning looking like this… and not even care.
Home, where I sleep soundly without drunken people stumbling down the street at all hours.
Home, where the pantry (!) & fridge (!) stocked with all my favorites: fruits, vegetables, chocolate chips, Coke Zero…
Where the bathroom doesn’t require a key, or shower shoes, or fear of dying of communicable diseases.
Where the sugar is labeled in Portuguese & the TV blares my favorite trashy Brazilian television.
Where there is furry love, all day every day.
Where life is just a little calmer, and love is everywhere.
Home, I think, can be anywhere. If home is where your heart is, my home is all over… from New Jersey to Michigan to Brazil to Seattle to San Jose. Because that’s where all the people I love best are, so even if I’ve never been there, it’s sure to feel like home…
“Home is wherever I’m with you.” Or wherever I am comfortable, wherever I can breathe, cook, laugh, and love.
Where do you consider home?